DANGEROUS GAME

 

No Place Called Home 

By: Katie Ramsey icymaiden1204@hotmail.com 

Rating: R. Sexual situations, adult themes and adult language.  

Disclaimer/Fandom: I do not own SVU, Dick Wolf, Alex, Olivia, or Law & Order. All original characters are mine, but I sincerely doubt anyone will care enough to rip me off.  

Pairing and Author’s Notes: This is Alex/Olivia, and it is AU...sort of. This is a they-met-in-school story, but with a little bit of a twist. I realize that the characters are almost ten years apart in age, so technically this would be an impossibility, but just roll with it because you want to read smut, k? I had several sources of inspiration, among them being Annus Mirabilis by the fabulous Alethea, in the Danny/Martin oeuvre of the Without a Trace fandom, Lost and Delirious, Therese und Isabelle, and in some small way, my own experience at debate camp the summer I turned 16. 

This is for my friend, Wendi, who because she loves SVU fic, and Mariska Hargitay, admitted to me in a breathless whisper that she eats up this A/O fic like it’s candy. So, because I’m a devoted-but-emotionally-stunted friend, and uh, a poor bastard who can’t afford to buy her a *real* Christmas gift, voila! She gets smut. 

Summary: Lust, boarding school, teenage hormones run amok, what could go wrong? 

Spoilers: early-Season 5-ish.  

Archiving: Ask and ye shall receive. 

 

 

 

Olivia sighed dismally as the car passed the imposing red brick sign introducing her to the wonders of St. Agatha’s Preparatory School for Girls and the lush landscaping that surrounded it so handsomely. Next came a small grove of fine, healthy trees and then the fertile too-green fields of the impressive school grounds began in earnest. First were the small rolling hills and a lake that Olivia was pretty sure was part of a golf course, then two Olympic-sized swimming pools, followed by six well-kept tennis courts. For such a prestigious school with such an expansive enrollment, there didn’t seem to be any actual students around.

It was the day before classes started, and Olivia truly expected everyone to be milling about, lazing, one last hurrah and all that. Matching brick buildings were flying past her window now, edifices that had been framed in the brochure and flanked with words like “majestic” and “unforgettable.” The car came to an unsteady stop on the loose gravel of the driveway, and Olivia’s jaw dropped open at the size and beauty of the school’s cathedral. Early afternoon sunlight glinted off the stained glass windows, the bells in the steeple pealed heartily, signaling it was now a quarter past the hour. Intimidating.

“End of the line,” the cab driver stated finally, draping a casual arm across the back of the lime-green plastic seat cover. “Sure you want to get out?” he leered.

Olivia rolled her eyes and threw her door open, sliding out and pulling her backpack out behind her. The cabbie shrugged and popped the trunk, but didn’t make an effort to get out and help her unload her luggage. She sighed in frustration as she slung her old bookbag over her shoulder and reached in for her heavy suitcases. She heaved with all her might, and managed to pull them out onto the gravel drive, then slammed the trunk lid down to show her displeasure. The cabbie didn’t waste any time pealing out, and gravel was thrown up in the process, pinging against her bare legs painfully. Olivia shot him the bird, hoping he would catch a glimpse in the rearview mirror.

She picked up one trunk with each hand and struggled towards the front of the dormitory, King Hall, which would be her home for the next year, at least. A young Hispanic man was hurrying across the lawn, and accosted her before she got to the front steps of the building. Wordlessly, he took her bags from her, and then led the way inside the building, entreating her to follow with a beseeching glance.

Olivia followed, taking the stairs two-at-a-time in a desire to keep up with her tireless escort, and was surprised when he led her directly to the floor monitor’s office.

“I will leave the bags in your room, ma’am,” he nodded deferentially, and before Olivia could even protest, he was gone. The evening floor monitor, Mrs. Beasley, took her sweet time locating Olivia’s room keys, and the itinerary for the evening’s events as well as her class schedule and textbooks.

Olivia was already exhausted by the time she began the search for her room. The sheet the floor monitor had given her listed her roommate as Cabot, Alexandra J. Sounded snooty enough, Olivia thought with a certain amount of vindicated satisfaction. The rooms were all numbered in a system not resembling any that Olivia had ever seen before, and her attention wouldn’t have been called to her room, particularly, had it not been for the rather-loud arguing emanating from within it as she approached.

“Why exactly, am I forced to have a ‘mate this year?” a young voice asked, petulant.

“Your mother, dear, it’s what she wants. She thinks you’re becoming too isolated,” an older woman fussed, and Olivia could hear fabric rustling.

“Because I don’t take her phone calls? It couldn’t possibly be that she’s a total bitch,” the young voice retorted spitefully.

The older woman answered, her voice frail, but firm. “Regardless, your parents pay the tuition, and therefore we are obligated to abide by their wishes.”

An exaggerated snort of frustration followed. “And who is this...person...that I’m supposed to be roomed with? Olivia Benton? I’ve never even heard of her before!”

“Yes, dear, well, I am sorry about that. Your friends had all paired off by the beginning of the summer. Your mother’s request was put in rather recently. I’m sure you’ll be friends with this girl sooner or later, she’s one of our transfers.”

“From where?” the young voice inquired derisively.

“The city, dear. She’s one of our scholarship candidates,” was the reply.

Before Olivia could hear some cutting remark about her parentage, or the quality of her education, she decided to butt in and make her presence known. “Hi.”

Both occupants of the room turned to the door to stare, and Olivia had to fight hard not to gawk herself. She recognized the older woman as the Dorm Mother Mrs. Kennedy, whom she’d been introduced to several weeks before when she’d visited the campus with her own mother. There was nothing remarkable about Mrs. Kennedy, she was plump and quite pretty still, but elderly and a little delicate, even.

What was remarkable, what did catch Olivia’s eye, was the young lady who had been so recently complaining about her new fate of having to share a room. Longish blonde hair framed a flawless face, and dark Buddy Holly glasses hid the true beauty of startling cobalt eyes. Her honeyed skin was worthy of ogling; peeking out from a form-fitting blue t-shirt and long, coltish legs were visible past the demure hem of her khaki shorts. Just another spoiled rich girl from suburbia, but an uncommonly lovely one. Olivia’s breath caught when the girl gave a small, tight smile and with the most erotic, husky voice ever, said: “welcome to St. Aggie’s.”

Mrs. Kennedy beamed. “Welcome, Olivia. This is Alexandra Cabot, one of our most established residents.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” it was Olivia’s turn to be deferential as she slid into the room as if trying not to be noticed.

“You girls I’m sure will be the best of friends in no time,” Mrs. Kennedy prattled, and Olivia smirked internally. Don’t bet on it. “I’ll leave you to get acquainted, but don’t forget that dinner will begin at six p.m. sharp.”

With a wave of her small hand and a flip of her fifties-style skirt, Mrs. Kennedy departed, leaving the two teenagers alone for the first time.

Alexandra Cabot was still staring at her with all the passion of a frog dissection.

“How old are you?” she asked boldly.

“16,” Olivia shuffled her feet, choosing not to make eye contact.

“Me too,” the other girl huffed, flopping down on her twin bed. “You’re taller than I thought you would be.”

“Yes,” Olivia replied, unable to believe how banal this conversation was rapidly becoming. Though Olivia couldn’t see it, Alex rolled her eyes at the lack of cooperation she was getting.

“Mrs. Kennedy just brought up all your school uniforms, I hung them up on your side of the closet,” Alex informed, almost haughtily.

“Thank you,” Olivia offered the response that was expected of her, though she hated to give this young brat the satisfaction. Olivia sighed and dropped her bookbag next to her own bed, and sank down onto it gratefully. She bounced a couple of times, satisfied with its quality. Only the best for the endowed girls of St. Agatha’s. Olivia idly wondered how much money Mr. and Mrs. Cabot had in the bank, and how long a student had to attend to be considered “established” in the dormitory. Alex rudely interrupted her ruminations.

“Is this your first time at a private school?” she demanded to know.

“Yes,” Olivia ducked her head again, though she didn’t know why, as she already had her back to her interrogator.

“Figures,” Alex retorted quietly, almost under her breath. Olivia cringed, though Alex couldn’t see that, either. “You lived in the city?”

Olivia gathered her courage, and cleared her throat, begging her voice not to waver. “All my life,” she supplied.

“You want to go to college?” Alex asked, almost nagging.

Olivia furrowed her brows. Didn’t all these girls want to go to college? Wasn’t that the point of a preparatory school? Who spent thousands of dollars to send their kid to stuck-up pampered private school to turn around and hold out on college tuition? With a start, she realized the other girl wasn’t asking if she wanted to go to college, but where she wanted to go to college. “Bryn Mawr,” Olivia answered simply, and she could practically hear the begrudging approval from her companion.

“Good choice,” Alex admitted. “I would have assumed NYU or something. I want to go to Harvard, but I’ll probably get shipped off to Wellsley, just like my mother.”

Olivia didn’t know how to respond, so she didn’t. She could feel the frustration from the other girl that she wouldn’t make polite conversation, but she just wasn’t sure how one made polite conversation with someone so above their own social status. What if she said something wildly inappropriate? What if she...

“What classes are you taking?” Alex prodded, and Olivia could hear the mattress springs squeak as Alex rolled off the bed. Olivia got out her schedule and handed it to her roommate. “Advanced Placement European Literature, AP Statistics, AP Chem II, AP American History, AP Business and Economics...you’re going to be scrambling this year, that’s for sure.” She let the paper fall onto the mattress next to Olivia’s thigh.

“You’re in two of my classes,” Alex noted as she went over to the window to stare out at the stables. “I have Euro Lit, too, with Hagman, and American History with Fitzgerald. But I’m taking AP Calculus and AP Physics with Prof. Tamber and Introduction to Law with O’Rourke.” With no answer forthcoming, Alex plowed on. “What extracurricular activities are you interested in? You have to take at least two, unless you’re in three or more AP classes, and then you only have to take one.”

“I hadn’t really thought about it,” Olivia said honestly, giving a small sigh of resignation. Alex turned to look at her sharply, but didn’t remark on her attitude. “Well, I swim, and most of my friends do, too. But Darcy plays tennis and golf, and Katie rides.”

“Rides?” Olivia asked for clarification.

“Horses,” Alex answered simply.

“Horses, wow,” Olivia was a touch overwhelmed. She couldn’t recall ever actually seeing a horse up close, except for the ones the cops rode in Central Park, and those didn’t count. But to actually have the opportunity to ride one? And that was the whole point, she reminded herself bitterly. More opportunities, more choices, advancement. Her distaste must have been evident on her face, because her roommate softened her _expression.

“Is this your first time away from home?”

“Yes,” Olivia answered shortly, glad for the ringing of the bell from the steeple next to the dorm.

“That’s it, only fifteen more minutes until the dinner of doom,” Alex rolled her eyes, and shifted away from the window towards her closet. “You should wear a dress, if you brought one,” she instructed Olivia brusquely.

“What if I didn’t bring one?” Olivia asked, her voice carrying an edge of panic now.

“Then wear one of the uniforms, but don’t get it too dirty. You only have six, and they have to last until Saturday. Laundry cart comes Saturday afternoon, and comes back on Sunday afternoon.” She took pity on her obviously inexperienced roommate. “Mrs. Beasley has some wet-wipes down in the Floor Office so if you spill, she’ll clean you up.”

“Thanks,” Olivia ducked her head again, and Alex took a hanger from the closet and left the room without saying goodbye. Olivia lay back on her bed and sighed, willing herself not to cry. This was going to be a long year.  

* * *  

The dining hall was unlike anything Olivia had ever seen before. Long, gleaming cherry oak tables were pushed together to make seamless rows, and stiff-backed upholstered chairs were set exactly a foot apart. White linen placemats were lined in front of each chair, along with white china plates and heavy silver cutlery. Waiters in white linen uniforms were standing against the wall; each flanked by a cart of covered plates. Olivia wondered if each meal was such a production, or just ones where parents attended.

She looked around at the mingling students, and older men and women she could only assume were their parents. As she got closer to the tables, she realized each had a little card with a name, set in alphabetical order this time, to Olivia’s relief. As she passed by the other A and B names, she realized each student had a least one parent, most of them both parents, in attendance. Her own place was set at the end of the first table, with no parent or guardian to accompany her. She had no friends, no acquaintances, and no guidance at all. Though few people were sitting, Olivia took her place and started at her hands, which she folded neatly in her lap. She could think of nothing but finishing her dinner as quickly as possible, and then escaping back to her room before Alex could, and pretending to be asleep to avoid more awkward conversation.

“Olivia,” a strong voice from behind her startled her out of her fantasy. She turned in her seat, her surprise evident.

“Mother, Mr. Abernathy, this is my new roommate, Olivia Benton.”

“Benson,” Olivia corrected hurriedly, standing. Alex didn’t bother to acknowledge her mistake. “Olivia, this is my mother Catherine Abernathy, and her husband, James Abernathy.”

“You may call me Mrs. Abernathy, dear,” the older woman held out her hand stiffly, and Olivia had the absurd childish impulse to kiss the top, just to be a smartass. She refrained, and instead pumped the clammy hand with a confidence she didn’t feel. Mr. Abernathy took her hand and also shook, but held on just a moment too long, and stroked the back of Olivia’s hand with smooth fingertips.

Alex pulled Olivia’s hand away callously, and Olivia was startled by this sudden warm contact from her cold-fish roomie. Olivia took a moment to quietly admire her new savior. A pastel yellow sundress cloaked her small frame, sleeveless arms modestly displaying her summer tan. It was a dress meant for early spring, but Olivia wasn’t complaining. The hem fell just around her knees, and Olivia could see a large bruise on Alexandra’s shin that belied her ladylike upbringing. She wondered how such a feminine young miss would get such a mark of integrity. An impromtu soccer game, perhaps? A tickle fight with a few good friends during a sleepover?

When Olivia noticed Mr. Abernathy noticing her noticing Alex, she quickly cut her eyes away, and gazed up at the raised platform where a podium stood, awaiting great speeches from undoubtedly important people. As if she could hear Olivia’s thoughts, a short portly woman stepped up to the pulpit and cleared her throat into a silent microphone. Adjusting it with a frown, she spoke again.

“Welcome, scholars and postulants,” she croaked.

“Good evening, Miss King,” the student body sing-songed in return. The headmistress waved away their propriety with her hand.

“Another great year at St. Agatha’s is before us, girls, and I intend for all of us to use this time in a manner befitting of young ladies.”

Olivia resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the double-speak. She turned, but the Abernathys had disappeared, along with the bewitching Alexandra Cabot. Olivia finally spotted them at the other end of the table, and noticed belatedly that everyone was quickly finding their seats. Olivia lowered herself into her chair, and was soon presented with her plate, which was uncovered with a flourish. She didn’t immediately recognize the delicacy that this unquestionably was, but she didn’t dare pick up her fork to complete an inspection. Everyone else had their eyes turned towards the headmistress, pointedly ignoring the meals being placed before them. Olivia took her cue, and turned back towards the stage.

“Most of you are returning students, but we do have a few new faces, and therefore I encourage everyone to welcome our new scholars with alacrity.” Olivia did roll her eyes at that, remembering her less-than-eager reception earlier that afternoon. She quickly reigned in her emotions, and covertly observed that no one had noticed her...spunk.

“I also encourage our new scholars to heed the guidance of our more established students, and to strive to excellence.” Healthy, polite applause ensued, and Olivia put her hands together for a few quick claps. There was that word again, established. Everyone turned to his or her plates almost in unison, and Olivia followed the example and self-consciously unraveled her napkin and placed it in her lap.

She was suddenly very grateful for the cotillion that her mother had invested in that summer, because she now saw three different forks beside her plate. She used her large dinner fork to begin the meal, and upon dissection, assessed that her evening meal was in fact, some artfully-arranged chicken.

She managed not to appear as if she were picking at her food, though in fact she scarcely took four bites of the delicious dish somehow she just couldn’t enjoy. The chicken was followed by a seafood bisque, then by a lime sherbet, and finally by a small salad, which the elderly man seated to her left cheerfully informed her “cleaned the palate.” When the plates were cleared, it was evident that the student body and parents were expected to meet and mingle, but Olivia found that no one was watching the door, and so she took the opportunity to slip out.

She hurried across the eerily quiet, dark grounds towards her dormitory, hoping the front doors wouldn’t be locked. She sent up a silent prayer when she slipped inside the deserted hall and bounded up the steep stairs towards the third floor. She turned a wrong corner only once, and was back in her room with the door securely closed within just a few minutes, her breath coming in harsh pants. She had a limited amount of time to be alone, she knew, and several tasks that she wished to complete before the Gestapo returned.

Inspecting the room in a way she hadn’t had a chance to before, she drew her eyes across the matching twin beds, her own with the standard blue cotton blanket, and Alex’s with a handmade quilt topping it. Matching oak dressers sat directly across from the foot of each bed, and in the middle was a smaller nightstand that they evidently would share. A reading lamp was mounted above each bed, the small glow coming from only her light presently. Closets were set into the wall, and as Olivia opened them both, she saw that Alex had taken the liberty of squeezing all of her clothing into one half of the larger closet. The smaller closet, she found, was crammed with luggage, boxes and other items that Olivia could only surmise were for storage.

“Well,” she said to herself in acceptance of this strange, new fate. She unpacked with speed, hanging up the clothes that now needed a good ironing, and storing her underclothes, socks and t-shirts in her own dresser. Personal items such as her diary, a few stuffed animals, and her artwork were shoved into the bottom drawer. She didn’t have much. She placed her traveling cases in the storage closet atop the other junk, and closed both closet doors with finality. She took all of the toiletries into the suite-style bathroom that they would share with the two girls next door, and found a hanging basket attached to the tile wall in the shower with her own name neatly carved into it.

She placed her shampoo and soap into her basket, and took the fastest shower known to man, barely washing all the shampoo out of her cropped hair before turning the water off. She wasn’t sure how much time she had left before Alex returned, but she didn’t want to take any chances. She dried off and hung her towel on the hook that she assumed was hers, judging by the “O.B.” that was scratched into it’s base. She brushed her teeth and ran a small towel over her wet head, not caring that her hair stuck up in every-which direction. She picked out an old David Bowie concert shirt from her dresser to sleep in, along with some rather demure grandmotherly underwear. Crawling into bed, she pulled the covers above her head and snaked a hand out to turn off the light attached to the polished headboard.

Her racing heart slowed as she began to feel safer in her little cocoon of warmth. It had been a very long day, and Olivia admitted to herself with a yawn that she might truly fall asleep before Alex came back. Olivia wondered guiltily what her mother was doing now, alone in the tiny apartment that they had shared for almost ten years. Was she sad about the loss of her only daughter to a posh boarding school? Or just grateful to be free of her? Was she as lonely as Olivia was now, was it oppressive against her heart? They had always been so close when Olivia was younger; she didn’t know how she could have let things get so out of control.

Regardless of what she did, her mother was supposed to love her, to shelter her, not send her away. And certainly not here. How could her mother have been so cruel? To send her somewhere so obviously out of her league, it was more than she would ever deserve, or be worthy of. With some surprise, Olivia realized salty tears were now dripping down her face. How insanely inappropriate that after everything that had happened, it would be now that the tears finally came. With a strangled moan, she buried her face into her pillow to stem the tide of her sorrow.

Though she didn’t hear it, the door was gently pushed open, and Alexandra Cabot entered, immediately sorry that she’d chosen to be so cold to this young, attention-starved girl. She wavered, then finally decided to go to her, and perched on the side of Olivia’s bed as lightly as a butterfly. Olivia stiffened under the blanket, tensing when she felt Alex’s hand through the cotton against her back. Alex stroked several times, as if she were petting a cat, and made soothing noises in the back of her throat. Olivia sat up and pushed her back against the headboard, wiping away furious tears with the back of her hand.

“Are you thinking about your parents?” Alex asked softly, the darkness obscuring her features from Olivia’s gaze.

“My mother,” Olivia said softly, begrudgingly. “I don’t have a father.”

“Me either,” Alex said, too-quickly. “I mean, I had a father once, but he died.”

“What happened?” Olivia ventured.

“He had cancer,” Alex answered curtly, then softened. “It was years ago, I don’t like to talk about it.”

“I’m sorry,” Olivia murmured, ducking her head almost automatically.

“Don’t be,” Alex demurred, brushing it off. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” Olivia wrapped her arms around her knees in a gesture clearly seeking protection. “Speaking of, I’m sorry about that jerk Abernathy, he was practically undressing you with his eyes.”

Olivia’s mouth dropped open in astonishment. “Why...you didn’t...how?” She didn’t finish.

“I always think I should stand up to him, you know? Slap him or tear him a new one, or something, but I never do,” Alex sighed, leaning back on Olivia’s bed, ready to talk. “I’m not really a bitch, you know. I’m sorry if I offended you earlier today.”

Olivia supposed that was as close to a sincere apology as she was ever going to get, so she muttered “s’okay,” and pulled her knees in tighter to her chest. They both stayed silent for several long moments, and finally, Alexandra sighed with resignation and rose from her place on the bed.

“Get some sleep,” she instructed gently, brushing a warm palm across Olivia’s tear-streaked cheek. “Euro Lit is at eight am, I’ll set the alarm for seven.”

Olivia’s breath caught in her throat at the unexpected contact and her nipples hardened almost painfully. It had been so long since she’d felt this way, aroused, or so softly willing.

She scooted back down in the bed as Alex traipsed into the bathroom and closed the door. Olivia’s eyes focused on the bright shard of light shining from underneath the door, and the swath of moonlight from the large window between her bed and the door to the bathroom. Her eyes adjusted in the silvery darkness, she pulled the blanket up under her chin. When she heard the shower stop running, she closed her eyes firmly to feign sleep.

She heard the water running in the sink, brushing teeth, then the hairdryer for only a few minutes. The door opened, and Alex was softly humming to herself. The light that Olivia could see behind closed eyelids was suddenly extinguished, and the only sound was the soft rustling of Alex’s towel. Olivia’s eyes opened, and adjusted quickly to the shadowy black engulfing the room. Alex was moving again, over to her dresser, and Olivia could make out her lithe, naked figure in the dark.

Was she an exhibitionist? Or did she truly believe Olivia to be asleep? The round globes of her buttocks shone in the darkness as Alex pulled up her undies, and Olivia had to fight to keep her breathing under control. Her heart raced, and she wanted to giggle so badly that it was torture to remain quiet. Alex proceeded to pull on matching pajamas, her back still to the beds. Tanned, toned back muscles were soon obscured, and Olivia almost moaned with the tragedy of it.

Alex buttoned her top and Olivia closed her eyes again emphatically before Alex turned around. She heard, rather than saw Alex slide softly into her own bed, and a sleepy moan escaped her lips. Suddenly, Olivia felt wide-awake.  

* * * 

Despite being awake and alert until almost midnight, Olivia woke at seven feeling refreshed. Alex’s bed was empty, neatly made, and Olivia saw no evidence of her presence at all, really. She folded her own nightclothes and dressed in the same uniform that she’d worn the night before, choosing a fresh pair of ankle socks and the same scuffed saddle shoes that her mother had found down at the Salvation Army.

Olivia’s heart ached at the thought of her mother, but she pushed that hurt away ruthlessly. It was too quiet here, she decided, desperate to distract herself. She didn’t feel at home without the sirens, the distant sounds of construction, the muffled roar of voices, children playing in the streets. A glance at the clock told her it was seven twenty, which gave her only ten minutes to get to the dining hall for breakfast.

Crossing the campus, she saw a sea of pressed white blouses and red plaid skirts. She heard several girls on the edge of the quad speaking Italian, studying? Another large group of girls were talking and laughing underneath a large old oak tree. Olivia looked up in time to see Alex striding across the lawn towards her in a blue velvet riding habit that hugged her curves generously and brought out the rich color of her irises. Olivia’s eyes glazed slightly in silent appreciation as they approached one another. Olivia dutifully halted, and Alex slowed gracefully as well.

“Enjoy the view?” Alex asked, one haughty eyebrow raised, her gaze piercing. Olivia wasn’t entirely sure Alex was referring to the stunning school grounds, but she swallowed the lump in her throat and near-whispered, “the campus is beautiful.”

“Yes, well,” Alex idly thumped her riding crop against her clothed thigh. “See you in class.” She marched on, and Olivia watched her go with an odd yearning in the pit of her stomach.

She managed to make it into the dining hall, where she found the arrangements quite different from the night before. Most of the tables had been separated to give some walking room between them, and they were now covered in white linen tablecloths with no place settings, though the chairs were still the same uncomfortable formal mini-torture chambers from the previous evening.

The rice-paper screens had been removed from the end of the room, and Olivia could now see a cafeteria-type line had formed to more adequately serve the large student body. She stood silently at the end of the line, taking one of the red plastic trays that were entirely too big, she decided in hindsight, for the tiny muffin she chose as her breakfast. It wasn’t for lack of options, however. A hot breakfast bar was manned by an almost decrepit old man who scooped up generous portions to inquiring minds. A coffee and juice bar was self-serve, and Olivia gratefully poured herself a cup of French roast, though her fellow “scholars” gave her dubious looks. Next came an overwhelming selection of breads and cereals, hot oatmeal and even grits. There was also a produce section, and Olivia almost grabbed a banana for later, but decided against it when she felt the insistent push into her back of someone behind her hurrying through the line.

The clerk at the end of the line assessed her meal with hawkish eyes, but she wasn’t asked to provide proof of her enrollment, and for that, Olivia was grateful. She still wasn’t sure what to expect, and she wished desperately that someone would take pity on her, but she knew, somehow, that that was an unlikely scenario.

She chose a seat by herself at the end of an empty table, and was picking the blueberries out of her muffin mulishly when a plump young face swam into her line of vision. Another student had plopped into the chair across from her and offered a chubby hand in unmistakable delight.

“You’re Olivia Benson,” she proclaimed cheerfully.

“Yes,” Olivia nodded, smiling for the first time since she’d come to this god-forsaken place. “I’m sorry, you are?”

“Amy Madison,” the other young lady bubbled, popping open her carton of milk and taking a healthy swig. She had large, apple cheeks dusted a light pink, and big blonde curls bounced off of her shoulders. “Caroline Cartwright and I are your suitemates.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Olivia reached her hand out, and Amy gave it a healthy shake.

“Likewise.”

“How long have you been at school here?” Olivia asked politely, all interest in her muffin dissipated. Her new friend was more than making up for it, Olivia observed with amusement, she had piles of egg and oatmeal on her plate, and she was unceremoniously mixing them together with a prodigious amount of brown sugar and syrup. Her happy _expression was intense, Olivia noticed; her eyes the most curious shade of lavender, and framed by lush, dark lashes.

Amy looked up to the ceiling, as if the sky was providing her answers, but Olivia realized she was genuinely trying to remember. “Four years,” she finally announced, and then affirmed it with a short nod and a wink in Olivia’s direction.

“You like it here?” Olivia asked, keeping her eyes on Amy’s open face.

“Love it. Caro and I have been rooming together for the last two years, and she’s my best friend. She’s my family,” Amy blushed becomingly, and shoveled a large bite into her mouth. “What about you?”

“Brand new,” Olivia smiled in response, taking a sip of her coffee. “My mother lives in New York City.”

“New York City,” Amy sighed romantically. “I’ve always wanted to go there. My family is from Syracuse, and we never take vacations in the state. We’re always off to California, or Europe or Canada or somewhere,” she rolled her eyes in an adolescent _expression of annoyance.

“Well, I’ve never been anywhere out of New York, so I guess we always want what we don’t have,” Olivia laughed, and Amy joined her. Olivia’s heart soared at the idea of finally making a friend. “Where is Caroline?” she inquired politely.

“Oh, she never eats breakfast,” Amy shook her head in emphasis, “I usually get her an apple or peach to eat after first period, and I can usually get a whole sandwich down her at lunch. She’s a bean pole,” Amy rolled her eyes again, this time in amused affection.

“What about Alex? Does she ever eat breakfast?”

Amy rolled her eyes yet again, this time in thinly-disguised dislike. “You’ll have to pardon me for saying so, but Alex isn’t one of my good friends. I’ve lived here for four years, and I’ve had a total of probably six conversations with her, most of the time at my expense. Caro and I have been suitemates with her for a whole years now, and I don’t think she’s said more than ten words to us put together in all that time.” Amy took another bite of her odd egg concoction and sighed. “I really shouldn’t be so unkind,” she mused miserably, and then crossed herself for good measure.

Olivia hid her surprise at such a blatant display of guilt. “I won’t say anything,” she promised, reaching out to squeeze Amy’s hand compassionately.

“Oh, I know, I just shouldn’t be so un-Christian,” Amy confessed. With a resolute nod, she vowed to do better. Olivia would have giggled if she thought her new confidante wouldn’t be unguardedly offended, so instead she nodded in solemnity.

“So this is your first year here?” Amy brightened as they moved to a new topic of conversation.

Olivia nodded, and took a long sip of coffee. “I’m a scholarship candidate,” she elaborated.

“Oh, how wonderful!” Amy replied, beaming. “My mother helps choose the scholarship recipients, she’s on the Board of Directors.”

“My mother has a good friend on the board, Mrs. Bellows,” Olivia remarked, pulling off a moist bite of muffin.

“My pop plays golf with Mr. Bellows, but I’ve never met his wife,” Amy replied, in between bites. “Mr. Bellows always comes at Christmas and dresses up as Santa Claus. It’s a little silly after all these years, but the younger kids like it.”

“How old are you?” Olivia asked, unabashedly now.

“Just turned seventeen, but I’m a junior,” Amy cleared her throat. “Caro is a junior, too, only she’s sixteen. We’ll both be postulants once we graduate.”

“Postulants?” Olivia inquired.

“Oh, we’ll be candidates into the convent. We’ll begin our training immediately after we graduate. As long as we’re accepted, we’ll probably both move to more fledgling convents to help them grow.”

“Wow,” Olivia replied, not sure what comment would be appropriate.

“It’s not for everyone,” Amy acknowledged with a wink. “But as long as we get to stay together, I think Caro and I could handle anything.”

The bells in the steeple pealed madly, and Olivia looked up at the wall clock to see it was five ‘til eight. Amy had managed to gulp down the remainder of her breakfast in a few short seconds, and was now rising with her tray.

“Come on,” she encouraged teasingly. “We don’t want to be late for our first day.” Olivia followed her to the small room where foul steam billowed from the door. Amy threw her tray down quickly and retreated, and Olivia followed.

“That almost makes me sick every time,” Amy admitted as they left the dining hall. “At lunch I bribe Caro to do it.” Olivia walked along beside her, silent. “Okay, what class do you have first?”

“Oh, uh…European Literature,” Olivia recalled.

“AP or Honors?”

“AP.”

“Me too! Excellent, I’ll take you there,” Amy grinned, and pulled Olivia by the hand towards Taylor Hall. They entered the cavernous room, Olivia still a little unsteady and Amy pulling her excitedly towards the top of the amphitheater.

Though the room was crowded and chaotic with students in various stages of organization, Alex’s gaze cut to her sharply, almost immediately. Under scrutiny, Olivia shyly dropped Amy’s hand, though she continued to follow her up the steps towards the higher level of seats. Olivia tried to ignore Alex’s constant perlustration as Amy guided her over to another young girl with bright, lustrous auburn hair.

“Caro,” Amy said softly, sitting down next to her friend. “This is ‘Livia Benson,”

Attentive green eyes sailed up to appraise Olivia, and Liv shifted under yet more surveillance. She could still feel Alex’s eyes digging into her backside, and she pointedly ignored the sensation as she stretched a hand out to Caroline Cartwright.

“Call me Caro,” her gentle feminine voice purred. Olivia took her seat beside Amy, who immediately leaned in to Caroline to confide in a whisper things Olivia didn’t want to know. Alex had managed to mind her own business, and was now stiffly turned in her own seat next to a row of gleaming brown heads, all meticulous curls and starched hair ribbons.

Their professor entered, and for a moment, the noise in the room quelled, before rising again when it was clear that class wouldn’t immediately begin.

“I see your roommate is as charming as ever,” Amy commented, turning to Olivia after a moment of whispered debate with Caroline.

“She’s a regular Miss Congeniality,” Olivia snarked back, observing the bronze skin of the object of her thoughts. Unable to control her curiosity, she leaned in. “Who are those girls that she’s with?”

“The most popular girls, of course,” Amy advised, not ungenerously. “Katie Fitzpatrick is their leader, she’s the one next to Alex with the thin nose and the pink ribbon. Next to Katie is Millie Kennedy, Mrs. Kennedy’s spoiled granddaughter, she’s like a demented Smee to Katie’s Captain Hook. She does everything Katie says, I want to salute them both every time I see them just to be mean.

“Let’s see…the girl with the purple bow is Delaney Delorme, she’s worse than Katie in some ways, better in others. Then on the end there is Christy Cameron and Ellen Ramsey, both I think rather unwillingly lumped into the group, but there nonetheless. Christy and Ellen hang out a lot by themselves; we’re sort of friends with them. Darcy is their other friend, but she’s not really cut out for AP classes.”

Olivia nodded in comprehension and was amazed that even though technically they were gossiping, Amy had managed to make it as clinical and unmalicious as Olivia had ever heard. These were just facts, a class system that Amy neither approved nor disapproved of. She had comprehension of where she belonged, but she didn’t let it regulate her every action or desire. Olivia decided in that moment that she would address it the same way, with the same dispassionate air.

Class began, and Olivia found their professor, Dr. Imogene Hagman to be a fair and funny leader, full of biting wit, but not unkind. She eagerly listened to a course outline, and didn’t groan with everyone else when Dr. Hagman assigned Beowulf as homework. Olivia was ready to be busy, to be too wrapped up in assignments and schoolwork to worry about home, or her mother, or Alexandra Cabot.  

* * *  

Olivia made it through her next two classes without passing out from hunger. She had realized a few minutes after their first period of the day that four bites of chicken the night before and part of a small muffin where not adequate sustenance for a girl of her age and stature. And coupled with the fact that she was no longer consumed with worry about not making any friends, she was ravenous by the time the bell rang for lunch. Amy and Caroline had Study Hall while Olivia had third period Chemistry, and so she was shuffling along to lunch by herself when she suddenly felt a presence behind her.

She was pretty sure it was Alex, but she didn’t want to give the blonde the satisfaction of turning around for a look. She chose a sandwich and chips over a hot lunch, and juice because they didn’t allow sodas at the prestigious St. Agatha’s. She took a seat almost exactly where she had sat down for breakfast, though the other end of the table was now filled with girls that looked more interested in their calculators than their lunches. Olivia guessed there were science geeks no matter what school their parents bought them into.

Olivia tried not to be surprised when Alexandra sat down across from her with a sandwich and a bottle of imported drinking water. “Hey,” she offered casually.

“Why didn’t you sit with me in Lit class? I saved a seat for you,” Alex asked darkly. Olivia did nothing to hide her surprise.

“Did you invite me to sit with you in Lit class?” she asked, with a polite curiosity that she could see infuriated Alex.

“I told you I would see you in class,” Alex replied uncomfortably. “I only assumed…” she trailed off without finishing the thought. From across the room, Olivia could see Amy and Caroline had exited the lunch line, but Amy was biting her lip in hesitation. Olivia waved them over regardless, and Amy grudgingly began to make her way through the tangle of students towards her table.

“You have other friends, I should go,” Alex began to stand, reaching for her still-wrapped sandwich.

Olivia’s hand reached out to grab Alex’s wrist, and Alex recoiled at the contact.

“You’re not mutually exclusive, Alexandra,” Olivia explained gently.

“I’ll see you later,” she said hastily as she left the table.

Olivia sighed in frustration as Amy approached the table, Caroline right behind her. Olivia couldn’t mistake her relieved _expression. “Did she have a bee in her bonnet?” Amy inquired coyly.

“She must have,” Olivia agreed, chuckling. She let Amy control the conversation, while she slipped deeper into her own thoughts. Alex Cabot was quickly becoming a conundrum that Olivia equally did and did not want to unravel.  

* * *  

When Olivia entered her American History class, she became dismayed to notice each desk had two seats, and the room was almost perilously full already. There were only a few empty tables left, and Amy was already seated next to Christy Cameron. She didn’t want to sit by herself, waiting for someone to join her, and then risk having to sit with some obnoxious upstart for the rest of the year. Which left only one option, really.

“Is this seat taken?”

Alex’s startling blue eyes met her own, and Olivia realized how all-too-easy it would be to fall into those icy azure pools.

“Be my guest,” Alex moved her books aside and gasped lightly when Olivia’s hand brushed hers as Olivia lowered herself into the chair. “You didn’t want to sit with your new comrades?” Alex asked lightly, forced.

“You didn’t want to sit with yours?” Olivia echoed, cocking her head at Katie Fitzpatrick and company, who were several tables away.

“We’re friends but we’re not close,” Alex answered, nonchalant.

“Alex,” Olivia said quietly. “You…you seemed so hurt earlier, I just wanted to make sure you were o…”

“I’m fine,” Alex interrupted, all business. She turned towards the front of the classroom, her back a rigid line, as if a ramrod has been shoved down her spine. “Forget it.”

A tall, regal blonde entered the classroom, and Olivia, now distracted, tore her gaze away from Alex unwillingly. The blonde was approaching their table, tossing her hair flippantly as she did so, and Olivia scooted back in her chair on reflex.

“Alex Cabot,” she addressed imperiously.

“Rachel Ramsey,” Alex responded, dryly.

“Slumming it, I see,” Rachel hazarded a glance over at Olivia, who felt, and probably looked, as though she’d been slapped. “Do try and remember your birth.”

“Take your seats, girls!” Sister Fitzgerald ordered from the front of the room. Alex and Olivia both burned with shame as Rachel Ramsey sauntered away. Olivia wished for the first (and she was fairly certain not the last) time that she could kick some overbearing, privileged too-big-for-her-britches ass.

They managed to make it through the remainder of period without incident, and Alex was out of her seat like a shot the moment class was dismissed. Olivia slowly gathered up her books and papers, hoping to avoid another run-in with the upper class, and therefore was one of the last students to leave the room.

Christy Cameron fell into step beside her as she walked towards the entrance of Beckwith Hall. “I’m sorry about that,” Christy said casually as she struggled to keep up with Olivia’s long strides.

“About what?” Olivia asked curiously, turning to glance at Christy as they walked. Christy’s hair was the exact shade of summer wheat, and thicker than any Olivia had ever seen before. Her hazel eyes were a perfect compliment, as was her rosy skin. Christy looked as though she’d been plucked straight from a farm somewhere, though Olivia knew that looks were deceiving, and Christy had probably never even seen a farm before, much less grown up on one.

“Rachel. She and Ellen are sisters, and let’s just say that Ellen is the far more fair and pleasant of the two,” Christy laughed. Olivia chortled also, but became serious again quickly.

“I find that everyone here apologizes for everyone else far too much. Where I come from, you’re responsible for only yourself,” Olivia stopped, and turned to face her companion fully.

“Well said,” Christy agreed. “I just don’t want you to have the impression that we’re all like Rachel Ramsey. The Cabots, Alex’s father, and the Ramsey’s mother were brother and sister, and they’ve got enough money between the both of them to fund small countries. But the Cabot money is now all tied up in trust funds in Alex’s name, and the Abernathy’s have some money, but not enough. Catherine Abernathy has been trying for years to get at Alex’s money, but so far she hasn’t gotten a dime. Old Man Cabot was no fool, and he loved Alex like crazy. He never would have sent Alex to boarding school,” Christy confided. Olivia didn’t want to gossip, but she was desperate to know more about her mysterious roommate.

“Most of the girls I’ve talked to have been here for three or four years at the most, but I keep hearing people talk about Alex being established. How long has she been here exactly?” Olivia asked, fear creeping into her heart.

“Eleven years,” Christy snorted. “Since she was a toddler, practically. Ellen and I have been here for six years each, and we love it here, but Alex…Alex hates it.”

“Poor Alex,” Olivia commiserated, walking again.

“Alex helps to make her own misery,” Christy said wisely, holding open the door to Taylor Hall, allowing Olivia to enter first. “What class do you have now?”

“Oh, uh, AP Business & Economics,” Olivia pulled out her class schedule.

“Me, too. I think we’re the only ones in there, so you should sit with me,” she smiled warmly at Olivia and together, they entered their last class of the day.  

 

When they left class, Amy and Caroline were waiting for them outside the door.

“Home Ec let out early?” Christy asked, pulling her long locks into a messy ponytail.

“What a minute…you’re in Home Ec?” Olivia asked, chuckling.

“Yeah,” Amy frowned. “Why?”

“I don’t know, it just seems a little 1950’s,” Olivia shrugged, still grinning.

Amy smiled back, “well, I guess it does. But what do we have use for Business and Economics?” she asked, with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I would much rather be learning how to make soup, and sew heart-shaped pillows.”

“Indeed,” Christy rolled her eyes playfully.

“Hey, I have a couple of questions for you guys,” Olivia stopped, and the others followed her lead. “What extra curricular activities are there to chose from? I think I have to have at least one, and I’m clueless.”

“Well, let’s see,” Amy babbled. “Swimming, tennis, cross-country running, oh but you have to be on the competitive team to do that. And choir, and drama, but you have to audition for those, too.”

“Golf,” Caroline chimed in.

“Horseback riding,” Christy threw in, “or rugby, which our dearest Ellen is arranging tryouts for today. I just hope they have enough girls to play.”

“Is that a hint?” Olivia asked with a sassy grin.

“No!” Christy replied adamantly.

“I’m kidding. I think that sounds like fun. Where are tryouts?”

Christy looked strangely relieved. “Over behind the stables at four forty-five. I’ll walk you over if you want.”

Olivia consulted her watch and determined she had another hour and a half before they’d have to leave. “Okay, I should probably start Beowulf anyway. Where do you think I could find Alex now?”

Christy and Amy exchanged worried glances.

“You won’t,” shy Caroline replied. Olivia frowned, her brows knitting.

“That is, Alex can be very secretive,” Christy explained. “No one really knows where she goes.”

Olivia filed this fact away for future reference, and smiled brightly to dispel the gloominess that had temporarily settled over their small group. “Okay, then, I’m in 313, if you’ll come and get me before tryouts.”

“Sure thing,” Christy smiled and checked her own watch before cursing and sprinting off.

“She’s about to miss the snack bell,” Amy rolled her eyes in what was fast-becoming a very familiar gesture.

“The what?” Olivia asked as they began to walk back towards the dormitory.

“Snack bell is from three until three fifteen, right after last class, and the snack bar in the dining hall is only open for about ten minutes for people to get an afternoon snack. Christy usually waits until the very last second, and thus…the running off,” Amy explained. Olivia followed her two new friends into the dorm and up the steep steps towards the third floor.

“I see,” Olivia came to a stop in front of her door and dug through the bookbag for her room key.

“Oh, and if you ever get locked out, just come through our room, we never lock the door,” Caroline offered, just before she closed the door.

“Great,” Olivia muttered, finding her keys and letting herself in. She closed the door behind her and flopped onto her small bed. “Why bother?” Even thought the other girls at St. Agatha’s didn’t exactly strike Liv as the break-and-enter types, she had grown up in New York, and had no reason to trust anyone. As for Liv herself, she’d been doing a fair amount of lying herself.

Not only had she already read Beowulf, but she’d brushed up during her study hall earlier that afternoon. She’d done her Business & Economics homework during class, and now that left just over an hour to find Alex’s secret hiding place. And she thought boarding school would be boring.  

* * * 

“Olivia!” Christy Cameron knocked on the door, almost as if to break it down. She flung the door open to find Olivia putting on her socks and running shoes.

“I’m almost ready,” she promised, lacing up. Christy waited on the threshold, lazily stretched up the doorframe, her own athletic body making Olivia wish that she’d worked out a little more during the summer.

Her search for Alex had been fruitless, at least this day. She’d peeked in almost every classroom in Taylor, Murphy, and King Halls, and she’d given the library a cursory glance, but knew she’d have to inspect it more thoroughly another day. Christy was growing a little impatient as Olivia dug through her closet for a light sweater.

“You won’t need it,” she warned. “You’ll be hotter’n shit in about ten minutes.”

“Okay,” Olivia draped the sweater over her chair and followed Christy out, this time not bothering to lock the door. They bounded down the stairs and out of the dorm, racing and chasing each other all the way to the rugby field.

Once they got there, Christy led her right over to another girl that was only slightly shorter than Christy, and built like the side of a barn. This girl had none of the style and grace that Rachel Ramsey was endowed with, and her quick grin told Olivia she had none of the self-importance, either.

“So you must be Liv,” Ellen gave an eager handshake, and Olivia admired the no-frills updo that she’d pulled her long hair into. Her rather large breasts must have been taped down, because they were flattened to her chest like pancakes. Rosy cheeks that everything to do with exercise and nothing to do with cosmetic accouterments. “I heard you had a run-in with Princess Rachel today. Sorry about that, she’s a snobby bitch, but we put up with her because every once in a while she graces us peons with her presence,” Ellen winked and Christy laughed in a way that told Olivia they shared much mirth at Rachel’s expense.

“Okay, guys, we have just a little over an hour before we have to clean up for dinner. These are uh, tryouts, but considering we’ll be struggling to get enough girls to have two teams, I bet you’ll all be on.”

Christy and Ellen shared some heated conversation behind an upraised clipboard, and Olivia couldn’t be sure, but she almost swore Ellen leaned in for a quick kiss when the other girls were distracted with warm-ups. Her eyes almost bugged out of her head, but then again, she couldn’t be sure she’d just seen what she thought she had.

“Liv, you’ll be on my team with Camille, Rosemary, Nicole, Delaney, Meredith, Wendi and Lana. Christy will be the other team captain, and she’ll have Hannah, Pamela, Sarah, Trace, Isabel, Yvette and Barbara.” The two teams split, and Ellen pulled them all into a huddle to give them positions before they began to scrimmage again.

Ellen and Christy certainly did a fair amount of clashing out on the field, Olivia noticed with some interest as they played. Never outrightly antagonistic, but the undercurrent of fierce competition was evident. Olivia herself played as if it was the most important game that had ever been played in the history of women’s sports, glad for the ability to shut off her brain every once in a while.

When the bell rang at a quarter until five, the game abruptly stopped, and the girls hustled to grab their belongings and dash back towards the dorms. Dinner was served from six to six thirty, and all the girls had to be freshly showered and in their uniforms by that time in order to eat.

Olivia really could have cared less, to be honest, but she’d heard that all the important announcements were made at dinner, and they even occasionally had an evening attendance check. Which meant blowing off to dinner to study could become treacherous, if she wasn’t careful.

Olivia nearly tripped on her way up the stairs, her own fault, she supposed, for trying to combine speed with her own adolescent gangliness. Undeterred, she whistled on her way down the hall towards her room, and upon arrival, threw the door open without hesitation. She nearly fainted at the sight that greeted her.

Alexandra Cabot, standing in front of her mirror, stark naked and preening. Or it could have been a search for underwear. Regardless, there she was in all of her unclothed glory, as lovely as anything Olivia had ever seen. Her flushed skin glowed so becomingly that Olivia lost her breath, a little. Pert, perky breasts stood at attention, practically beckoning Olivia hither for a taste. For once, without her glasses, her eyes flashed blue fire.

“For God’s sake, close the door!”

Though no one was in the hall, and no one else had seen Alex, Olivia nearly tripped over herself again to do Alex’s bidding. She turned to face the wall as Alex dressed quickly behind her, but it was no use. The image of Alex’s long, graceful legs and her slim, boyish hips were burned like a brand onto Olivia’s consciousness.

“I’m sorry,” Olivia tilted her head just slightly, but didn’t turn to face her roommate.

“Don’t be sorry. Just be careful!” Alex sighed in exasperation, and Olivia knew she would never again fling the door open as she had that afternoon. “I’m dressed,” Alex finally said, and Olivia was almost disappointed to see her primly buttoned up into her entirely-proper school uniform.

“Sorry,” Olivia said again, but Alex waved off her apology. Olivia slid past her to grab fresh clothes from her dresser.

“What have you been doing?” Alex asked in disdain, noticing for the first time that Olivia was covered nearly head-to-toe in mud.

“Playing rugby,” Olivia grinned charmingly and Alex couldn’t deny that her heart fluttered just a little when she saw the radiant joy that Olivia possessed.

“Really? Did you fall into that mud puddle or just tackle it?” Alex snorted derisively.

“A little of both, I think,” Olivia answered gaily, not put off in the slightest. She ducked her head as she passed by Alex again, and escaped to the shower, where she was free to…fantasize. She shampooed the mop of hair, and then washed her face and behind her ears. She skimmed the washcloth against her smallish breasts, wishing, not for the first time, that they were bigger. She’d been sending unanswered prayers to Heaven in that regard for quite a while, but alas… She bent over to make sure she cleaned all the caked mud off of her shins and calves, then got her thighs for good measure.

Reaching between her legs, she’d meant only to give a cursory swipe for hygiene’s sake, but as the taut terrycloth met the engorged skin of her clitoris, she knew hat her body really needed, and it was a workout of the carnal variety.

Olivia began the slow grind against her clenched fist, but knowing she didn’t have much time, she sped her motions. Steam filled the small white stall, and Olivia let her head fall forward until her brow rested against the tile wall. Spreading her legs just a little more, her nimble fingers flew in an effort to make herself climax as quickly as possible. Scalding water pounded against her back, and seconds later, Olivia came wildly, biting her lip to suppress a cry of pleasure.

She allowed herself only a moment before cleaning up and shutting off the water. Alex’s body was young, and perfect, and with time, it could only get better. What Olivia wouldn’t give to feel Alex’s pale golden thighs around her own strong hips? To feel the hot pant of Alex’s breath against her throat…that husky voice, crying out in ecstasy, almost pain.

Alex was gone by the time Olivia emerged from the bathroom, and for that she was almost grateful. Daydreaming about one’s beautiful-but-unavailable roommate did have it’s disadvantages, and Olivia was a little squeamish about facing Alex so soon after…that. With any luck, Alex hadn’t even noticed Olivia’s admiration, and therefore would not imagine Olivia capable of lusty shower masturbation—at least not about her, anyway.

Liv couldn’t lie to herself; the most apprehension she’d had about this cockamamie plan had not been about where she’d find herself in this crazy new social order. Nor had it really been about how her mother would get on without her—and she without her mother. True, she had worried about those things, but they took a back burner to the paranoia that her lesbianism would be discovered the moment she came in through the door. Which was ridiculous, really, and a little irrational, for it wasn’t as if she wore a bright red “L” proclaiming her as the dyke of St. Agatha’s. Truly the only way anyone would know is if Olivia told them herself, that was entirely unlikely.

Olivia had vowed that she would never again be swayed by the affection she carried for another girl, that had already gotten her into enough trouble. She shook off her distressing thoughts and dressed for dinner, running fingers through her hair in lieu of combing it.

She rushed out of her room and down the hall, hustling to make it down to the dining hall in time. When she arrived, she found the seating to be arranged again, alphabetically, and Olivia could see even from the other end of the table that Alex looked bored to tears. She wondered idly if snobby rich girls like Alexandra Cabot even knew what a lesbian was, if she’d ever even met one before as such. Even girls like Ellen Ramsey who were probably-gay were undoubtedly closeted here at nice-and-neat no-messes St. Agatha’s. Homosexual dalliances, in all fairness, were probably as prohibited as the heterosexual ones, though from what Olivia had seen; sneaking a boy into one of the dorms would have been downright impossible.

And that’s where the irony was just almost laughable. Olivia, the only lesbian she even knew of, besides the scant few on TV or in movies, being sent to an all-girls Catholic school to finish her education. It was like an all-you-can-eat buffet and shock therapy all rolled in to one. Olivia just hoped she wouldn’t have to start making mandatory visits to the confessional. Which reminded her…

Across the table was a girl that looked vaguely familiar, but Olivia couldn’t quite place her, perhaps from one of her classes—

“Hi, I’m Olivia.”

“I know who you are,” the other girl answered coldly.

Olivia’s eyes widened, but she couldn’t bring herself to be surprised, not after everything that had happened.

“Yeah, so I’m new, and I was wondering if we’re required to go to church.”

The girl’s nose rose another inch or two, and she sniffed delicately. “Mass is at seven a.m. on Fridays and nine on Sundays,” she informed Olivia haughtily.

“Oh, thanks,” Olivia smiled, but didn’t attempt eye contact. Static from the podium mercifully saved her from trying to continue to make polite conversation.

“Good evening, girls,” the headmistress Alice King propelled herself up onto some sort of a footstool to increase her stature enough to see over the top in her address to the student body. She was a dumpy woman, her dress looked more like a potato sack than the latest Parisian fashion, and her short brown bob was as wispy as an octogenarian’s. Her thick black framed glasses reminded Olivia a little of the ones that Alex wore, but somehow Alex’s were altogether more enchanting. Plus, Alice King had to constantly push them back up onto the bridge of her nose with one pudgy finger. She was about as unexceptional as paint drying, but she probably had more money than God.

“Good evening, Miss King.”

“I trust everyone had an excellent first day of classes, remember that next Monday is the last day for schedule changes. Also, see Mrs. Bates about your extra-curricular activities and make sure you are registered, particularly if there are any events that will be taking you off campus. We will of course, have to send your parents forms to complete to allow you to leave under the care of our guardians, of course.”

She rustled the paperwork in front of her, as if she were holding some kind of sicko press conference where the most important news was budget cuts and funding for the book club.

“Also, girls, remember that the boys from St. Christopher will be here Friday for the Junior and Senior mixer, and all girls in those classes are required to attend, for at least one hour. The Chess club girls have a tea luncheon with the young ladies from St. Anne’s next Tuesday…”

Olivia groaned inwardly. Mandatory school dances? What was next, Chinese water torture? Although, she had to admit, she took inordinate pleasure out of the idea of once again seeing Alexandra in a dress. She just hoped ‘established residents’ weren’t exempt from these charming little requirements.

She escaped back to the dormitory as soon as she could, and unlike the night before, Alex returned almost immediately. Alex let out a shaky, relieved sigh, and she and Olivia shared a knowing grin.

“It’s an abysmally long day,” Alex grunted as she kicked off her pristine black Mary Janes. She appraised Olivia silently, the way a predator observed prey. Her breathing quickened just enough for Olivia to notice.

Olivia imagined what sort of picture she made: back against the headboard in a classically offensive position. Her old concert t-shirt was worn, but clean, and her sleep shorts had a few holes, though nothing that would be considered immodest. Her short hair was still wildly untamed, and her lanky legs were far more ungainly than she would have liked. She tucked a foot underneath her bottom and spread a textbook out across her lap, though she couldn’t explain why, exactly, she was embarrassed for Alex to think less of her.

“Yes,” Olivia croaked, when it became clear that Alex expected a response. Alex didn’t say anything more; she just chose pajamas and got dressed in the bathroom, emerging with her face scrubbed clean of make-up, as fresh as a new morning. Her nightclothes were adorable; a two-piece set covered in ducks and rabbits, with matching socks. The girls fell into an easy silence; both curled up on their beds, studying to avoid conversation. By silent, mutual agreement, they turned off the light at eleven, closing the door on another day.  

* * * 

Once they had gotten into a routine, Olivia found the forced isolation was easier to bear. Monday had been the longest day of her life, but she’d started out on the right foot with new friends, and she was enjoying the camaraderie of the rugby team far more than the exercise itself, which was unusual. Olivia had always considered herself unfit for team sports, far more content to rely on herself, and only herself for satisfaction.

Practices were scheduled for Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, with their games on Saturday afternoons after classes. On Tuesday she had searched until dinner for Alex’s secret hiding place with no success, and on Wednesday she only had an hour before practice, and while she completed a thorough tour of the library, Alex was still nowhere to be found.

Thursday Professor Hagman saddled the class with Chaucer and Gawain and the Green Knight, so she was forced to stay indoors and read until dinner, since she had four chapters of History to complete before the next day, as well.

It was still dark outside Friday morning when Olivia awoke suddenly. Alex was perched above her, staring down into her face pensively.

“What?” Olivia asked, still groggy. “Are you okay?”

“It’s six forty five, Mass starts in fifteen minutes, I didn’t want you to be late,” she whispered. As Olivia sat up, she realized Alex was already dressed, primped and ready for the day, her bed made. It always amazed Olivia that Alex was able to get dressed and leave every morning in complete silence. Back in New York, it was like Grand Central Station every morning when she and her mother got up to go to work, and school. Her mother in the kitchen, making her breakfast, calling for her to hurry up at regular intervals. Olivia in the bathroom, curling her short locks with the hot iron, cursing loudly when she burned herself.

Olivia rubbed sleepy eyes, and watched Alex quietly gather her books into her backpack and then exit the room, the door closing with nary a whisper. Olivia got up, dressed quickly herself, and licked a finger to smooth her cowlicks. She followed the other girls down to the chapel, and sat in the back row with other girls that looked like they’d rather be anywhere but church.

With unsteady, unpracticed motions she crossed herself when everyone else did, unfamiliar with the little rituals that the other students had down pat. She did thank the Lord when the service ended, and forgot to genuflect as she left the chapel and tripped her way out through the front doors and onto the concrete steps. Breathing deeply, she thought about taking a run around the campus instead of having breakfast, but she didn’t want to be sweaty all day, so she didn’t.

She went through the motions of Euro Lit, glad that she had correctly interpreted the meaning of Sir Gawain, a little disappointed that she couldn’t say the same for Chaucer. In light of the mandatory attendance at the mixer, the girls wouldn’t have homework assigned to them for Saturday, and classes would even start an hour later than usual on Saturday mornings, which was already an hour later than they started every other morning. Olivia had to give it to them; the good people at St. Agatha’s sure knew how to keep a girl busy. Class six days a week, church twice a week, requisite extracurricular activities, involuntary school dances, more homework in a week than she’d seen in a month at her old school…she could go on, but she was depressed enough already.

Statistics and Chemistry were boring as usual, while her American History class was unusually tedious. Olivia felt restless, and she couldn’t exactly say why. The other girls were getting excited, and a few even a little whimsical about the upcoming party, but Olivia didn’t find the situation nearly so droll. And she could tell by Alex’s frequent, irritated looks at disruptive classmates that she didn’t, either. It struck her halfway through her study hall that she didn’t have a dress, and so instead of finishing her Economics homework, she worried about that, instead.

It turned out she needn’t have worried, homework was forgotten the moment the class began discussing stress in the workplace. Their professor, the formidable Sister Frances, had postulated that stress was induced by nothing more than a person’s inability to control their own emotions.

“58% of all working class people have had at least one stress-related emotional breakdown by the age of 60.”

“75% of all statistics are made up on the spot,” a voice yelled from the back. The elderly nun glared from her command at the front of the room.

“How many of you see your parents come home stressed after a long day of work?”

“Very few of us even see our parents period,” Christy remarked dryly out of the side of her mouth.

“Touché,” Olivia murmured back. “Although I have a feeling some of these girls prefer it that way.”

“I know the less I see of my mother, the better,” Christy affirmed.

“I’m lucky, I only have one parent to disappoint, and I am an expert. Years of practice.”

“Miss Benson, what is so fascinating?” Sister Frances asked loudly from the front of the room, after having noticed the two friends whispering.

“Nothing, ma’am,” Olivia replied deferentially, ducking her head as she always did, when pressed.

“On the contrary, we’d be delighted. Miss Cameron obviously found you amusing enough,” Sister Frances sparred, propping one thigh on the edge of her desk, her arms crossed over her chest, her look expectant.

“Well…that is…not to turn this into a philosophical debate, or even a physiological one, for that matter, but couldn’t it be argued that our reactions to the external pressures in life are what makes us inherently human?”

“You’re right, Miss Benson, it’s not a debate,” Sister Fitzgerald replied sharply.

“Liv has a good point,” Christy spoke up bravely. Olivia squeezed her hand, silently begging her not to make a scene.

Sister Frances raised an eyebrow in skeptical instigation, which fueled Olivia’s ire. “I see, and does Miss Benson wish to teach the class herself?”

“Well, you’re the one who demanded that she answer,” Christy reminded scornfully. Olivia’s fingers tightened on Christy’s with vise-like intensity.

“You have nothing to say in your own defense?” Sister Frances snapped, clearly ready to win, and move on.

“Well, I think you just validated my argument, as a matter of fact,” Olivia spoke out. A few other students turned around in their chairs to stare in mild surprise. “See, Sister, the point of you picking on me is to embarrass me, fluster me in front of my classmates, to put me in my place,” Olivia continued, her confidence rising inexplicably. “If that wasn’t the reaction that you were expecting, you wouldn’t have done it. Your words were the catalyst intended to create stress, so that in the future, I might remember to hold my tongue. But my reply was the counter-agent you weren’t expecting, which neutralized the effect of your attempt, and therefore, Chemistry is more important than Economics.”

A few titters from other students caused Sister Frances to purse her lips in careful consideration. Olivia was ready for the ax to come down when the bells in steeple rang to signal the end of class.

“Until tomorrow,” Sister Frances frowned and removed herself from the desk.

“I thought nuns were supposed to be nice,” Olivia grumbled, leaving class.

“Only the ones that don’t have fifty kids to baby-sit every hour,” Christy retorted wryly.

“Sour grapes?” Amy asked, as she and Caroline approached.

“Olivia duked it out with Sister Franz over the effects of stress in one’s life,” Christy sparred comically with the air in front of her face.

“Speaking of stress, I realized just a few minutes ago that I don’t have a dress to wear tonight,” Olivia wrinkled her nose.

“Well, you don’t have enough time to go into town, and I doubt Mrs. Kennedy would let you go even if you asked,” Caroline responded quietly. She reminded Olivia so much of Beth from Little Women, and Olivia cocked her head at the thought.

“Anything I have would hang on you like a coat rack,” short Amy bubbled.

“But I might have something perfect,” Christy stepped back and examined Olivia with one closed eye, and one open, comically mimicking a fussy photographer. “Come up to our room at six, and I’ll fix you up.”

“But what about dinner?…”

“Oh, we’re allowed to skip tonight since we’ll be getting ready for the thing,” Amy shrugged. “We’re going to 

order up pizza, you want in?”

“Oh,” Olivia shrugged, and dug the toe of her shoe into the tile floor. “I don’t really…have any money,” her face burned bright with shame.

Amy waved her plump fingers in a manner that anyone else would have considered snobby, or high-handed. “I’m treating everyone,” she insisted.

“In that case, I like pepperoni,” Christy grinned effusively.

“Me, too,” Olivia echoed, sharing her sly smile.

“Okay, I’m going to miss snack bell,” Christy advised, looking at her watch. “Liv…six o’clock,” she dashed off, leaving Olivia to walk back to the dorm with Amy and Caroline.

“Are you excited about the dance?” Amy asked, her vivacious tone almost infectious.

“Not really. I’ll be standing at the door when my hour is up beating it down,” Olivia laughed. They began their trek up the stairs.

“Oh, come on, aren’t you the least little bit psyched about talking to someone new?”

“I’d settle for talking to the person I live with,” Olivia replied dryly.

“Yes, well,” Amy rolled her eyes. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” They walked down the hall towards their suite.

“We’ll come get you when the pizza gets here,” Caroline said as Olivia opened the door carefully and peeked inside.

“Thanks…I may be up with Christy, so…” she shrugged. She entered her room, and quickly changed into jeans and an old t-shirt, and sat down to work on an upcoming paper due in her American History class. She had been hard at work for almost two hours when she heard a curious rustling from the window. About to get up to investigate, when all of the sudden, the sash rose with a clatter, and startled, Olivia yelped. A bedraggled Alex came crawling through the window, her wet hair matted to her head.

“It’s raining,” she announced, as it was the most normal thing in the world that she would come crawling through a third-story window. Alex inspected a scrape on her forearm with interest. “Well, that’s gonna scar.”

“Alex!”

“That is an acceptable nickname in most social circles,” Alex replied, standing, trying to regain her bearings.

“What were you doing out on the roof?”

“Relaxing,” Alex hedged. Olivia’s mouth was still open in shock, and her brain finally caught up.

“Is that where you’ve been hiding? You’ve been out on the roof all this time?”

“Hiding?” Alex snapped, her eyebrow raising contemptuously, her eyes flashing. “Who said I was hiding? Have you been looking for me?”

“Well, yes.”

“Why didn’t you just ask me?”

Olivia didn’t have a good answer to that, mostly because that would have been the most direct course of action, and she hadn’t taken it. “Ah…well, because…” she trailed off helplessly, at a loss.

Alex stalked across the room toward her dresser. “Allow me to guess. All of your new buddies have been gathering around like little chipmunks to gossip and regale you with tales of how odd and eccentric and cranky Alex Cabot is. And the more and more they chatter; the more and more mysterious I seem. And before long, you’re just eating it right out of their hands.” Alex slammed her bureau drawer shut in frustration. She stormed towards the bathroom, but Olivia stopped her with a firm hand on Alex’s arm.

“Let me go! I need to shower.”

“Well, I think we need to fight,” Olivia retorted deftly. “Since the moment I walked through that door, you’ve treated me like a hired hand…actually, you’ve treated me like a hired hand you’ve been forced to room with.”

Alex closed her eyes in silent acceptance, knowing now that Olivia had heard her arguing with Mrs. Kennedy the day she moved in. Her body was turned, facing the window, her back almost to Olivia completely.

“You bait me, you hate me, you all but ignore me, and you expect me to come ask you where your little secret hiding place is? Why would I even expect an answer?”

“Are you quite finished?”

“No! Alex, I like you, a lot. But you’ve got to give me something to work with. I know your mother dumped you off to live here at a ridiculously young age, but I’m not her, and I’m not going to push you away. Please, let me be your friend.” She released Alex’s arm, and Alex turned her head just slightly towards Olivia, her voice trembling as she said:

“You don’t know anything about me.” She escaped to the bathroom and closed the door with a resounding crash.

Olivia let out a huge sigh of frustration. “Excellent job, Olivia. That was handled perfectly,” she berated herself aloud, hoping that someone—the walls, the floor, God, someone would give her an answer. As it were, a fist pounded on her door, and a single word was shouted through the old wood.

“Pizza!”

Olivia rolled her eyes at Amy’s exuberance, and went to go join her friends, wondering all the while if Alex was ever going to come around.  

 

“So then, my best friend Elliot tries to put the fire out by peeing on it…boys,” Olivia rolled her eyes at the gathered group of girls, and they nodded in tacit acceptance that boys were in fact, stupid.

“So what about the girl with the pot?” Caroline asked, her eyes opened wide.

“No, she took off when she heard the sirens,” Olivia reminded her. “So I’m there, with a fire that she and her idiot boyfriend started…”

“Wait, Derwood?” Amy broke in, so involved in the story that more soda was being poured on the floor than in the glass.

“Yeah, this fire is just out of control, and I’m with the guy who’s trying to put it out with his pants down. So of course this is the first thing the firefighter sees when they get there…”

“Oh, no, did your friend burn his…equipment?” Another girl, Florence Mackaby asked in awe.

“Good of Flo to be so concerned about the dicks involved in this story,” Ellen rolled her eyes from her position on Caro’s bed.

Olivia laughed, “Elliot was fine. But that firefighter might have been scarred for life.”

Christy wiped tears from the corners of her eyes, by far the most amused party of the group. “Damn, Liv. You sure know how to tell a story.”

“Gripping, wasn’t it?” Olivia’s eyes shone with unrepressed felicity.

“Oh, God, Caro, is that the time?” Amy jumped up from her place on the floor and checked the clock. “It’s already seven thirty!”

“Damn,” Christy stood, brushing crumbs from her lap.

“All those pricks from St. Chris’s are going to show up and be alone down in the ‘hall,” Ellen laughed as she too, stood and stretched luxuriously. Christy reached out to give her a wallop in the stomach, causing Ellen to snort in protest.

“I’ll warm up the curling iron!” Amy sang as she darted into the bathroom.

“Come on, Liv, we have dresses to try on,” Christy prodded, grabbing her things from Amy’s bed.

“I’ll be right behind you,” Olivia swore as Christy, Ellen and Florence all filed out, thanking Amy for dinner in the process.

“What’s up?” Amy asked as soon as the door was closed, her curiosity lighting up her face. In a flash, Olivia had a vision of Amy as a child; up at 3 am on Christmas morning, just dying to get her presents unwrapped as quickly as possible.

“Not a whole lot, I was just wondering…a favor, really. I know that you have certain…feelings, about Alex, and her admittedly sometimes-less-than-charming personality.”

“But?” Caro threw in, always gentle.

“But I was wondering if you would help me make a real effort to include Alex. I think she’s lonely…and I just…I just don’t want her to feel that way anymore,” Olivia admitted shyly.

Amy sighed hugely, and looked to Caro, as if for support. “Olivia’s right. We should be opening our hearts to her.”

Caroline nodded in agreement, looking a little shamed herself.

“Alright,” Amy finally said, and Olivia beamed.

“Thank you.”

“Go,” Amy waved her off. “Get ready.”

Olivia bounced off, glad that she was trying to reach out to Alex. Bounding up the stairs to the fourth floor, wondering if Mrs. Bates would approve stair-climbing as her “extra-curricular” activity, Olivia didn’t even think as she approached the door to Christy and Ellen’s room. She rapped once, and then barged in, the comment she was going to make dying on her lips.

Christy and Ellen were locked in an embrace, their mouths fused together in a blatantly carnal way. They broke apart when door flew open, both out of breath, and both taking an enormous step away from each other.

“Liv, uh…hi,” Ellen made eye contact with the floor and scratched the back of her neck as if there was any plausible deniability left at this point.

“We can explain,” Christy stammered.

“I don’t think you have to,” Olivia answered, sardonic. She closed the door behind her. “Honestly, I don’t know why I bother even opening doors around this place. I’m just going to walk around blindfolded from now on.”

Clearly without a clue as to what she was talking about, Christy and Ellen shared a “what now?” look. Christy’s eyes were filling with unshed tears, and Olivia’s heart softened immediately.

“You have nothing to worry about,” Olivia promised.

“So…you won’t tell?” Ellen finally asked, her voice squeaking at the end.

“Scout’s honor,” Olivia held up four fingers in a bastardization of the correct hand signal. “I’ll take it to my grave, under lock and key.”

Christy sighed in relief, brushing Ellen’s hand as if to bring her some comfort as well. Ellen was now flashing a wily grin in Olivia’s direction.

“Do you…play…for our team? You do, don’t you?” she asked, suspiciously.

Olivia didn’t say anything, but looked up at the ceiling innocently.

“You sly dog,” Ellen laughed heartily. “I told you,” she turned to Christy, vindicated. Christy dabbed at the corners of her eyes, her breathing finally returning to normal.

“So you did,” Christy grinned back, and her shaky laugh had more relief that she would admit to later.

Trying to dispel some of the awkwardness, Olivia turned to give the room her full inspection. The inside of the door was painted with all the colors of the rainbow, obviously, a nod. Beyond the door, the wall that Christy’s bed was pressed against was plastered completely in movie posters, everything from Jaws to Gone With the Wind to One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. On the opposite wall, Ellen had sports posters wallpapered in much the same way. On the intersecting wall, they had merged the two themes rather creatively.

Painted a deep red, Olivia found the color complemented both girls in their own way. Christy wore red well, and it was obvious from her matching spread and accent pillows that it was her favorite color. While Olivia hadn’t seen Ellen wear anything but black or blue, the fiery hue matched her personality, her spirit. Against the wall were movie posters that had faces of athletes pasted on as if they belonged. Wilt Chamberlain’s head graced Bogart’s body in an advertisement for Casablanca. Likewise, Greta Garbo was playing soccer in a far-away land where her jersey was #10, and she played for the Eagles.

“Who gave you permission to paint the walls?”

“No one, really,” Ellen admitted.

“Ellie painted it all herself,” Christy boasted proudly.

“Awww,” Ellen blushed. “Mrs. K never comes up here and if our floor monitor noticed, she hasn’t ever said anything. Plus our sentence isn’t up for a couple more years, so I figure we can paint it back if need be.”

“Sentence?”

“Think prison, Liv,” Christy rolled her eyes as she sailed past her two friends on her way to the closet. “She thinks she’s funny.”

“Never got any complaints before,” Ellen groused good-naturedly.

“I was thinking an earthy color for you, Liv…brown, maybe, or green,” Christy pulled dresses of each color out of her closet as she spoke, one a rich velvety umber and the other a silky emerald confection.

Ellen crowded behind them to oversee the goings-on.

“You’re the boss,” Olivia laughed weakly.

“Not the green,” Ellen overruled from her post as Christy fingered the sleek hem of the dress contemplatively. “You wear the green.” Almost fussy.

“What do you care?” Christy gave an odd half-smile-half-frown.

“The green’ll look better on you, matches your eyes,” Ellen remarked, studiously regarding the floor. Olivia looked closer, and saw that Christy’s eyes, which she had originally found to be hazel, were actually a light shade of green, like jade. “That one’s my favorite,” Ellen finally said, still quiet.

“Yeah?” Christy’s delight was obvious, if her beatific smile was any indication.

“I think Ellen is a closeted femme,” Olivia teased playfully. “Suddenly she’s an expert on matching fabrics and colors. Next she’ll be picking out our shoes.”

Ellen pshawed and wandered away from the two friends.

“Speaking of, babe, what are you going to wear?” Christy asked, instantly curious.

“Uh, slacks.”

“Slacks and what?”

“Slacks aren’t enough?” Ellen cocked her head.

“What shirt, dummy? Unless you were planning to go topless…?”

“Attila would love that!” Ellen hooted gleefully.

“Who’s Attila?” Olivia asked, amused.

“Ellie calls Miss King Attila…as in Attila the Hun. I told you she thinks she’s a laugh riot.”

“Ahhh,” Olivia nodded, and she and Christy both turned back towards her wardrobe.

“What about brown, Liv?” Christy pressed.

“Go with the red,” Ellen suggested from the bed. Olivia reached for the hanger and pulled the red dress out of the closet, examining it curiously.

“Red might just be perfect,” Christy agreed, her voice rising with excitement. The dress was more of a blood red, a deep crimson, and from what Olivia could tell, gossamer silk lay over a satiny scarlet shell, creating darker shadows in the fabric where it clung to the body. “Try it on,” Christy encouraged, taking the hanger. Olivia quickly shed her jeans and top, and took the beautiful dress back into her own hands.

Olivia delicately loosed the zipper and then carefully lowered the fabric to step into the dress. Christy helped pull it up around her shoulders, and then zipped her into it with a flourish.

“Oh, Liv, it fits perfectly,” Christy sighed happily.

“Of course it does,” Ellen commented, not looking up from the magazine she was now reading. “You’re both the same height, and you’re both in shape.”

“Shush, you,” Christy admonished lightly.

“Does everything look okay?” Liv asked, turning to inspect her backside in the mirror on the door. “Is everything in the right place?” She made a comical motion with her hands to indicate her breasts might be out of alignment.

Christy giggled in response. “You look perfect. And I’ve got the perfect shoes, too!” She got down onto her hands and knees and crawled into the closet at an angle, throwing items from inside out onto the carpeted floor of their bedroom.

After several long minutes, she backed out and held them up triumphantly. “Ta da.”

Olivia looked dubious. Her prize was a pair of three-inch strappy high heels that looked like they would be hell on her ankles. “Oh, Chris,” she said doubtfully. “I’ll break my neck in those.”

Christy shook her head emphatically. “No, you won’t. Just sit down a lot and don’t drink the spiked punch, you’ll be fine.”

“Don’t do it, Liv. Fight the dark side,” Ellen moaned piteously from her spot on the bed, ever the comedian. Christy glared.

“You’ll be fine,” she reassured Olivia patiently. Olivia sat on the edge of Christy’s bed and put the shoes on, loving the way her party dress clung to the skin of her thighs. She looked down at the draped cloth that covered her breasts and prayed that her bra wasn’t visible through the fabric.

“This is awfully sexy for a school dance,” she worried aloud.

“It’s better than your uniform,” Christy waved off her concerns with a flick of her wrist. “It’s not too short, it has sleeves, and you look beautiful. And that’s a lot more than some of those tramps can say,” she finished darkly.

Olivia looked up to see Christy applying her make-up in the closet doorway, using the mirror over the door. Christy looked at Olivia’s reflection watching her primp.

“You want me to do you, too?” Christy asked, her eyebrows raised.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t. You’ve already done so much,” Olivia protested.

“Nonsense!” Christy exclaimed, beckoning her friend over. Olivia rose, shaky on her heels and crossed the room with care, her steps tentative.

“She loves this shit, Liv,” Ellen threw in, licking a finger before lazily turning a page. “She’s like a sicko Cinderella fairy godmother,”

“Only if you get…lucky, you don’t have to return the dress until tomorrow,” Christy gave Olivia a saucy grin.

“I doubt I would get the room to myself long enough to get lucky,” Olivia commented. “Alex doesn’t seem like the type to break the rules.”

“She’s locked up tighter than Fort Knox,” Christy agreed idly.  

“Speaking from personal experience?” Olivia asked coyly, grinning.

Ellen burst out laughing from her own bed, and even Christy could resist giggling.

“One Cabot girl is enough for me,” Christy threw back, applying blusher to the apples of Olivia’s cheeks. She gave a light coating of bronzer, and then gave Olivia some brown eyeshadow for contrast. A hint of dark red lipstick and Christy kissed her fingers dramatically.

“Perfecto!” she exclaimed. Ellen finally looked up and gave Olivia a confidence-boosting wolf-whistle.

“If only I could still get that reaction,” Christy quipped dryly.

“Oh, honey,” Ellen leapt off the bed and practically tackled Christy into the closet. Olivia could hear wet smacking sounds from within, and Christy squealing in response.

“Not the hair! Not the hair!”

From the effervescent sounds of giggles accompanying the plea, Olivia determined it was nothing serious, and a moment later, both girls emerged from the closet, both with flushed and panting faces.

“Sorry about that insane display of affection,” Christy rolled her eyes and used the mirror to adjust her hairpins.

Ellen stretched lethargically, like a cat, and then wandered over to her own closet and began to pull out trousers.

“What do you think, Olivia?” She asked politely, presenting her with a blue pinstriped pair and a charcoal wool pair.

Olivia wrinkled her nose, then pointed to the navy. “It’s too hot for wool, still.”

Ellen returned the heavier pair to the closet and then brought out two different dress shirts, one a deep royal blue and the other stark white. Olivia picked the blue, and then encouraged her to pair it with a bright red pair of loafers that she could see sticking out of the other girl’s closet.

“Really?” Ellen looked dubious, but Olivia insisted with a firm nod. Ellen shrugged and pulled on the slacks, and then shoved her wide feet into the shoes without another thought.

Meanwhile, Christy was finishing up her make-up and was slipping into her own dress. The green silk met in a deep v-shape down Christy’s back, exposing most of the pale, freckled skin there. Her bra-less breasts didn’t look lascivious in the modest neckline, but Ellen shot her a look that was clearly lecherous, anyway. The hem fell gracefully around her knees, and Olivia could see her contemplating hosiery, but in the end, just chose some brown summer sandals for a shabby chic look.

Ellen buttoned up her crisply ironed shirt and grimaced, scratching at her neck. Christy crossed over to her and smoothed her collar down lovingly. Her affectionate tone told Olivia everything she needed to know about their relationship.

“Did I get use too much starch?” Christy worried her bottom lip with her teeth. “I’m sorry sweetie.” She pulled down the cuffs so that the sleeves hung more naturally, and nuzzled Ellen’s ear lovingly.

Olivia averted her eyes from the intimate display and carefully examined her short, blunt fingernails.

“You want me to paint them?” Christy offered excitedly, and Olivia looked up to see Ellen rolling her eyes in the mirror.

“We’re late enough as it is,” Ellen grumbled, and Olivia shook her head also.

“No, I’d probably just smear them all over this gorgeous dress,” she splayed her hands out self-consciously across her hips. Christy gave a suit-yourself shrug and dug through her jewelry box until she found a pair of tiny pearls, which she inserted into her own ears.

She crossed over to Ellen and helped her put in some diamond studs. Together, the three friends left the room, Ellen by far the most comfortable in the evening’s ensemble. After a few unsteady steps, Christy evened out and began walking like a pro in her heels, and Olivia admired her adaptability with silent appreciation.

She did feel a little like Cinderella…dressed up in clothes she didn’t belong in, going to a dance with a crowd she didn’t fit in with, and knowing that there would be no happy ending to this story. Her heart hardened bitterly. As much as she liked Christy and Ellen, she wasn’t in their same league and she knew it. These girls came from wealthy families and no matter how humble they were personally, their families and their worlds were far away from Olivia’s.

People like the Camerons and the Ramseys bathed in money, slept with money under their pillows, and would probably wear suits made out of money if dollar bills weren’t so flammable. Olivia’s mother rarely had two nickles to rub together, and every last dime she had went to making sure that Olivia had clothes, food, school supplies, and so forth.

Thinking about rich people always made Olivia think back to the Scrooge McDuck cartoons she used to watch as a kid, how envious she had been that he had a vault full of gold coins that he could swim around in, if he wanted to. Christy frowned at her comically, and Olivia realized she’d been grimacing painfully. She broke into a smile and pushed her unkind thoughts away as they approached the dining hall, where this little shindig was supposed to take place.  

 

As they entered the dining hall, which had been decorated for the occasion with tall white pillar candles, and garlands of fresh flowers, Olivia realized that she had stepped into a fairy tale, one that these people lived every day. Waiters in white linen uniforms skirted around the dance floor, taking drink orders and delivering punch on silver trays.

Young gentlemen bowed as they escorted young ladies out to the dance floor, dressed to the nines in suits and ties. The girls, Olivia’s classmates, some of whom only a few days before she’d tackled into muddy playing fields during practice were now donning elegant new dresses and jewelry that had probably been in their family for centuries, or at the very least, decades.

It may have been the delicate laughter tinkling like glass shards shattering, the sweet cloying scent of exotic perfume, the flash of crystalline lights, she wasn’t sure, but suddenly Olivia was dizzy, and she hadn’t even sampled the infamous punch yet. She cleaved away from the party and went to sit at one of the empty tables. She took deep, cleansing breaths, and one of the waiters deposited a glass of fresh drinking water at her elbow. She grabbed it, taking a grateful gulp, catching her breath before taking time to really gaze around at her classmates.

She saw Florence Mackaby in the arms of a rather tall looking young man who probably had more dick than he had brains. They’d be a good match.

Yvette from the rugby team had obviously been drinking her share of the punch for quite a while, for she was almost asleep on the shoulder of her pimply-faced date who looked as if he’d much rather be back in his dorm room playing Axis and Allies.

Olivia continued to look around, seeing Katie Fitzpatrick waltzing with a perfect looking guy, they probably were betrothed or something equally archaic, and their future flawless progeny would be the same spineless jerks that would be cutting Olivia’s children off in traffic, and then flipping the bird for good measure.

Agnes Merchant, God, was that taffeta? Isabel Baxter, looking more butch in her frilly party dress than Ellen did in her trousers and suspenders. Barbara Donnelly, what a bitch… Millie Kennedy, her grandmother’s fingers practically shoved up her nose as the elder woman inspected her make-up. Probably chaperoning Millie and her date, though Olivia suspected from the way he was staring at the other beefcakes on the dance floor, he wouldn’t be Millie’s date for long.

Olivia kept going… Alice King was there, looking like this was the first real party she’d been to in a while. She was knocking back the punch well enough, anyway. Hannah Peterson from the team was also present, holding court with about a half dozen young men, most of whom were hanging on to her every word. She wore the black column dress well, the slit up to her thigh a welcome distraction for most of the boys. How far did Hannah go on the first date? Olivia wondered idly, second base? Probably.

Let’s see, Rachel Ramsey’s tall head was visible above the rest of the crowd, probably because of the ridiculous hairdo that sat atop her head like a beehive. Olivia could only guess how many holes in the ozone she’d made with the hair spray to keep that in place. She’d seen just about everything there was to see when the faintest movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. Olivia glanced over to see what was niggling her peripheral vision…

And Oh. My. God. Alexandra Cabot stood off to the side of the dance floor, looking like a fucking wet dream. Her dance partner was busy laughing it up with one of his friends, ignoring the gorgeous goddess he had on his arm.

Her blonde locks were pulled up into a French twist; lazy tendrils had fallen and were now brushing the unquestionably delicious skin at her nape every time she twisted her pretty neck. The blue fabric that was currently hugging her every curve was the same deep shade of sapphire as the ones that were dangling from her earlobes. The dress came up high, to her collarbone, draping casually there, while sleeveless arms exposed plenty enough skin to make up for it. When she turned just slightly, Olivia could see that Alex’s dress had the same revealing dip in the back that Christy’s did, only Alex’s skin was the color of warm vanilla sugar.

She probably smelled great, too, like some frou frou cosmetics counter, perfume that cost more than Olivia’s mother made in a week. Her cheeks were dusted a demure shade of rose, and her eyelids sparkled playfully, pink. Alex was blushing becomingly, though out of embarrassment due to her date’s wild antics, and Olivia could think of nothing more than taking Alex back to their room to show her that boys were entirely unnecessary in the scheme of things.

Alex turned to see Olivia staring, and Olivia gave a weak smile in return and waved. Alex didn’t smile back; she just held Olivia’s eyes for a long minute. If it hadn’t been for a boisterous couple brushing past, distracting Alex, she might not have broken the gaze. When the ruckus died down, she had slipped away.

Olivia got up when another rambunctious group came wandering over, looking for seats. Wanting to avoid the noise and attention, she escaped to a rather dark corner to continue her observation in (relative) peace. Without warning, warm fingers curled around hers and Olivia was pulled backwards and around and into a very cramped coat closet.

“What in the hell?…” Olivia began, but stopped short when she realized her abductor was Alex.

“Hey, Olivia.”

“We seriously need to talk about your ability to downplay dramatic irony. Crawling through windows, sneaking into the hatcheck. Living with you is like being with James Bond.”

Alex ignored her companion’s mini-rant. “So I wanted to apologize to you for earlier, for yelling. I didn’t mean it. I want us to be friends, too.” Struck dumb for a moment, Olivia realized Alex was sincere, touching her hand gently. Olivia wished with all her heart that she could lean forward, cup Alex’s face in her hands and kiss her until her toes curled. Alex would get flushed, and maybe a little breathless, her chest would heave as she struggled to get just a little more oxygen. Olivia pressed her thighs together discreetly, wishing Alex would just…

“…leave with me?”

“Huh?”

Alex sighed. “I said, we’ve both checked in already, no one would really notice if we left. Let’s just slip out the back way.”

“Where would we go?”

“It’s a surprise,” Alex promised, and grabbed Olivia’s hand again, leading her out of the closet and down a darkened hallway, away from the party. She slipped out through a heavy metal door at the end of the corridor, pulling Olivia behind her. Olivia followed obediently as they stepped out onto the green between the campus and the stables.

Alex didn’t relinquish her hold on Liv’s hand, even after they’d crossed the small ravine and begun an upward climb towards the stables.

“Who was that guy?”

“Which one?” Alex played dumb.

“Very cute. The one you were with, the sorta-handsome one.”

“Oh, him.” Bored, Olivia noticed. “That is Samuel Merriweather the Third, son of Samuel Merriweather the Second, of Abernathy, Merriweather and Golding.”

“Your step-father’s business partner?”

“Law partner, and I prefer to call him my mother’s husband,” Alex replied, without breaking stride.

“So you’re dating, or what?”

“He would like to, I’ve resisted.”

“Why?”

“What is this, Twenty Questions?”

“Sort of,” Olivia grinned, cheeky. “You’re opening like a flower, I’m curious.” She shrugged. “So tell me why.”

Alex searched for an answer. “Well, for one, it’s what Mr. and Mrs. Abernathy would like to see happen. I marry Merriweather, Merriweather and Abernathy litigate all the Cabot funds, we keep all the money in the family, so to speak.”  

“I see. Any other reasons?”

“I don’t like the prick?” Alex tossed out, casually.

“What makes him so prick-ish?” Olivia asked as Alex guided her around the side of the old barn. Alex finally dropped her hand to push back the bolt holding the door closed.

“I don’t know,” Alex grunted as she slid the bar lock. “He’s just too…patrician for me. He takes himself way too seriously, and he expects me to do the same. A little too much blue in his blood.” Both girls slipped into the stables. “Plus I’m just not attracted to him,” she finished, as an afterthought.

Olivia was overwhelmed with all the smells of the enclosed barn: the sweet heady aroma of fresh hay, the rough smell of weathered leather, the sharp pungent odor of manure. Horses snorting from their stalls, the soft yips of kittens from the small enclosure to her right. Warm, steamy breath of the animals surrounding it all, making it feel cozy.

“Come here,” Alex beckoned. She knelt down next to the pen on the floor and lifted one of the newborn kittens, smiling genuinely for perhaps the first time since Olivia had known her. Olivia reached in to give the tiny cats pats and squeezes.

“So who are you attracted to?” Olivia asked nonchalantly, gauging Alex’s reaction very carefully.

Alex frowned, “no one, I guess.” She held kitten to her face, kissing its downy head. The kitty gave several playful licks in response and Alex giggled. Olivia’s heart lurched.

“How long have you been here, Alex?” Olivia asked, serious.

“You were right, before, about that,” Alex admitted. “I was very young when I was sent here. Five years old. For the first two years it was still just a day school. The nanny dropped me off, and picked me up, even on Saturdays. Then the dorms were renovated and reopened, and my mother demanded that I be boarded here, despite my age.”

“And they let her.”

Alex nodded, her _expression melancholy.

“When did your father die?”

Alex sighed and rose to her feet. “I was five. Come on,” she helped Olivia up and then brushed at her own knees, the effort futile. She led Olivia over to one of the stalls and efficiently released the lock.

“Hi Aloysius,” she purred softly, stroking the mare’s soft snout. “Olivia, meet Aly. Aly, meet Olivia.”

“Hi,” Olivia reached up hesitantly to rub the horse’s face, feeling absurd for standing in a barn in an evening dress petting an animal she felt could easily eat her whole. “Will he bite me?”

Alex shook her head resolutely. “Don’t do anything mean, don’t poke her in the eye. She’s very gentle.” Alex nuzzled the horse’s nose, whispering. She stepped away after a moment and turned her attention back to Olivia.

“What about your father?”

“I don’t have one,” Olivia replied darkly, not making eye contact.

“Well, surely your mother didn’t impregnate herself.”

“I mean, I don’t want to…talk about it,” Olivia fumbled, ashamed.

“So no quid pro quo?”

“Huh?”

“You know everything about me, I know nothing about you,” Alex explained patiently.

“I don’t,” Olivia fought for the right words. “I don’t know…how to tell you.”

“Find a way,” Alex said gently, brushing her hand across Olivia’s cheek. Their eyes met for an extended moment, and only the horse naying quietly distracted the girls, breaking their stare.

“Restless, girl?” Alex asked, rubbing a long graceful finger between her pet’s eyes.

Olivia cleared her throat awkwardly. “Is she your favorite?”

“Favorite?” Alex asked, quizzical.

“Your favorite of all the horses,” Olivia elaborated.

Alex laughed gaily. “No, she’s mine.”

“Yours?” Olivia repeated, dumbly. “You have your own horse?”

“One of my few joys,” Alex confessed, before giving Aloysius one last pat and stepping backwards out of the stall.

Olivia saw the accident about to happen, but her voice was stuck in the back of her throat. Alex was backing straight into a footstool, certain to trip. Olivia lunged forward, unsure if she even cried out.

Normally graceful Alex snagged the hem of her dress on the back of her heel, and was on the tumble downwards when Olivia reached her. Thrusting both arms out just in time, Olivia braced herself and caught Alex in one spry movement. Though it had seemed to happen in slow motion, now they were flush, Alex bent backwards still, their breasts pressed together, chests heaving as they both struggled to catch their breath.

Olivia lifted Alex back up as if she were the most fragile thing in the world, blushing furiously as she did so. Her nipples strained hard against the fabric of her dress, aroused. Her chocolate eyes dilated hugely in response to the situation. Alex’s hands, which were currently wrapped around Olivia’s forearms in an attempt to support herself, squeezed gratefully.

Alex licked her dry lips, a perfectly innocent gesture, but the effect went straight to Olivia’s quivering thighs. “Thank you,” she rasped. Olivia debated leaning forward to kiss Alex and just resolve the potent sexual tension between them once and for all. But Alex regained her balance and released Olivia before Olivia could act on her foolish impulse. It was probably better that way, she thought callously. Debutantes slapped just as hard as other girls.

“Alex…I…” Olivia couldn’t seem to find the right words to say after that.

“What?” Alex asked softly.

“I want…That is…Do you…Will you come to my game tomorrow?” Olivia finally blurted.

“That’s not what you were going to say,” Alex retorted immediately.

“Maybe not, but I’m asking now.” 

 Alex was silent for a moment, thoughtful. “Yes. Yes, I want to come to your game.”

Olivia smiled hugely, both relieved and pleased.

“Let’s go,” Alex locked the stall and reached for Olivia’s hand again, and they exited the same way they had come, locking up as they left. They hurried across the campus lawn towards the dorm.

As they approached the dining hall, a large group of kids spilled out onto the walkway from the open doorway.

“Rachel Ramsey fell and split her lip!” Amy announced as soon as Olivia and Alex got close enough to determine what all the hubbub was about.

“She’ll be okay,” Ellen diagnosed as she sauntered over, Christy in tow.

“Mrs. Kennedy called the paramedics,” a voice closer to the front of the crowd cried out.

“Oh, for the love of Pete,” Ellen rolled her eyes in response. “It barely even broke the skin.”

“She’ll probably try to sue someone for the slip and fall,” Christy predicted boldly.

“Mrs. Kennedy will come rap your ears for even suggesting it,” Alex warned playfully. Ellen and Christy turned towards Alex; a little surprised she was even present.

“Alex, you look wonderful,” Christy said sweetly.

“Not too bad, eh? I clean up well,” Alex quipped, standing a little taller.

“Not bad at all,” Ellen agreed cheerfully. “Like Liv here…who knew she was such a fox?”

The comment had its desired effect. Olivia blushed about twelve different shades of red, and Ellen elbowed her in the ribs, teasing.

“Indeed,” Alex agreed.

Olivia’s heart soared at the idea of Alex finding her attractive. Don’t, she warned herself even so. Don’t take it seriously. “So the dance is over?” she said, instead.

“So it would seem,” Caroline raised her auburn eyebrows in condescending mockery of Alice King. It was the first time Olivia had seen her display a sense of humor, and she was suddenly aware that it was probably very dry.

“Well, no sense standing out here being cold,” Christy finally said, shivering. She held onto Ellen’s arm as they crossed the rough terrain of wet grass headed back towards the dorm. Alex and Olivia fell in to step behind them, shooting curious looks to one another as they walked.

They all trooped up the stairs, stopping at the landing where Olivia and Alex would go down that hall towards their room, while Ellen and Christy still had another flight of stairs to ascend.

“Oh, Christy, I need to return the dress.”

Christy yawned hugely, and she waved Olivia off. “Tomorrow’s fine. Just be on time for the game, eh?”

“Yeah, sure,” Olivia grinned and turned to escort Alex back to their room. Alex, however, was already down the hall and leaning against the wall next to their door in an uncharacteristically lazy manner.

“Too much punch?” Olivia asked politely. Alex yawned, too, showing her perfect pearly whites in the process. Alex murmured what could have been an agreement as Olivia unlocked the door.

Alex went in and collapsed on her bed, not bothering to remove her shoes, dress or hose. She buried her face into her pillow and groaned in defeat.

Olivia hung up the borrowed dress and carefully smoothed out the wrinkles. She removed the shoes next, stacking them neatly next to her bureau. She reached for her slip, and turned slightly to see Alex observing her with one eye, the other side of her face still obscured by the pillow. When Alex realized she’d been caught, she rolled off the bed and headed for the bathroom.

“I’m going to be miserable if I don’t take all this off,” she said as she did so. Olivia just smiled, and didn’t reply. Olivia finished undressing, slipping into an old Grateful Dead shirt and then waiting as Alex finished in the bathroom. When she was, Olivia shut the door and inspected herself in the mirror.

She looked quite pretty, actually, with her face made up and her hair lightly styled. And Christy was right; Olivia had always looked good in red. Olivia couldn’t help but wonder what Alex saw when she looked at Liv’s face, and her dress. Did Alex notice every blemish, every flyaway hair? Did Alex find Olivia too tall, too gangly? Too chubby around the middle?

Olivia brushed her teeth, and then flossed on a whim. She removed the make-up Christy had so artfully applied, and inspected her reflection for another long second before turning out the light. Alex was already in her pajamas and in the bed, almost asleep.

Olivia crawled under the covers and switched out her light, sighing into her own pillow. It had been a good night, despite her initial reservations. She’d gotten to wear a fancy dress, she’d gotten to see Alex in a fancy dress, she’d gotten closer to Alex and she’d become the confidante of two good friends. All in all, not a bad day.  

* * * 

“Olivia, hustle!” Ellen yelled from the sidelines. Olivia pushed herself harder, faster, hurtling into anyone and everyone that got into her way. The crowd hooted and whistled from the stands as Olivia tackled one of the opposing side’s best defensive players. They rolled around for a moment before Olivia wrestled the ball back into her arms and then laid on it so Ellen could call a time-out.

Olivia jogged over to her other teammates and she could see Alex in the bleachers rolling her eyes. Once again, Olivia had managed to get herself completely covered in mud. As if it was her fault they watered the grass so often that the entire playing field was like Louisiana swampland.

The custodians had pulled old aluminum bleachers out of the storage sheds, and Ellen had bribed someone in the Headmistress’s office to make sure the bleachers were set up every Friday evening for the game the following afternoon. She was making a serious effort in getting a respectable rugby team together, and more and more girls were approaching every week wanting to tryout.

Interested roommates and fans, if they could be called such, were gathered on the bleachers to watch the games, and Alex hadn’t missed a game since the first night she’d told Olivia she’d come. Three weeks had passed since then, and Alex and Olivia were getting closer every day. Sharing little secrets in little ways, teaching each other to be both humble and kind, and there was a noticeable increase in those breathtaking stares that they seemed to be perfecting.

Alex treated coming to the games the same way she treated trips into town, with unnecessary ceremony. The days were getting chillier, and today, she was in the bleachers wearing jeans, which until that day Olivia hadn’t even been sure Alex owned, and an adorable tan corduroy coat. Though she didn’t understand the rules and regulations of the games, she occasionally cheered Olivia on, and made rude New Yorker comments when fouls were called against Olivia’s team.

Olivia wanted to crack up every time Alex shot up in the bleachers and yelled at the referee. What was so amusing was that most of time, Olivia really was in the wrong, and deserved to be fouled. She still got a kick out of Alex’s necessary indignation at the call.

“What are you, blind?”

Most of the time Ellen either refereed the game herself, or made Christy do it, and neither of them appreciated Alex’s comments, which tickled Olivia even more.

Today’s game had two minutes left on the clock and Olivia’s team was up by almost ten points. Olivia wasn’t worried about a comeback from the opposing side, but wanted to have as much of a lead as possible for bragging rights. Ellen was laying out the remainder of the game in the huddle, but as she looked over to Alex, she found the other girl was watching her intently, and suddenly, Olivia’s head was no longer in the game.

The other girls were oblivious, but as Olivia moved back into position on the field, she kept Alex in her line of sight. Time began again, and Olivia had to throw her focus back into the game, however half-hearted.

The other team managed to score again before the clock ran out, mostly due to crappy defense. Olivia stumbled away from the field dying to take a bath and spend the remainder of the evening with Alex, curled up on their respective beds, reading to one another.

At first, the idea of reading aloud had seemed a little ridiculous, but as time passed, Olivia found she retained the material better, and she just enjoyed listening to the husky timbre of Alex’s voice. Alex enjoyed it, too, though she never said as much. In the evenings they would alternate chapters, swapping old paperbacks, or the homework assignment, or when they got desperate, magazines and newspapers.

“So I was thinking we could get pizza from the caf and have a dorm room picnic,” Olivia proposed as she climbed the bleachers to join Alex.

“That sounds perfect,” Alex smiled warmly.

“Liv!” Ellen bellowed from the team’s bench. “We’ve got to go over the playbook. Chris and I have time now, you good?”

Olivia turned back to Alex and gave her a pained look. Alex grinned and shooed her away.

“Yeah, gimme a minute,” Olivia called back, not tearing her focus away from Alex. She lowered her voice. “Okay, an hour tops, then pizza, reading and…”

“Go,” Alex cut her off, giving her a knowing smile. Liv returned it and jogged down the bleachers to meet up with her friends.

“Give me fifteen minutes,” Ellen consulted her waterproof wristwatch as Olivia and Christy fell into step beside her walking back up towards the dorms. “I’ve got to run get the playbook, and then call Lauren St. Claire from Holy Family to see if they’re going to come scrimmage with us next week.”  

“We’ll be waiting here for you,” Christy replied as they reached the quad, Ellen branching off to go run her errands, and the other two girls adopting a more leisurely pace. Olivia plopped down under the ancient oak tree that lorded over the courtyard, and Christy found her own carpet of green grass a few feet away.

They lounged back against the trunk of the tree; each lost in their own thoughts. Olivia idly picked at blades of grass, ripping them into tiny shreds.

Christy was smiling dreamily.

“You look like you’re in la-la land,” Olivia chuckled. “Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

Christy blushed girlishly. “My head has been in the clouds all day. I’ve been thinking about the first time Ellen ever kissed me…our anniversary is coming up, so I’ve been wracking my brain trying to think of a stupid present to buy her, and it occurred to me that I’m actually getting too caught up in it.”

“How long has it been?” Olivia grinned in return, beckoning Christy to continue.

“Two years, next week. You know we’ve known each other since we were like, ten years old, back when we both first came to St. Aggie’s. And then I think we were twelve when we decided we wanted to room together. We weren’t like all the other girls who were so juvenile and petty with their friendships—you know, one week friends with this girl, the next week hating her, gossiping about her.”

“You’re lucky, there seem to be plenty of those around,” Olivia replied with a sarcastic roll of her eyes.

“We’ve been so blessed,” Christy agreed, earnestly.

Olivia tucked her foot up underneath her bottom. “So get to the good stuff.”

Christy giggled gaily, and leaned in. “Well, when we were fourteen, about this time—almost Thanksgiving—Ellen started acting really weird. Avoiding me, constantly at my throat about something or other, and so private all the time. She would go off in the woods and sit for hours down on the dock at the lake. She wouldn’t talk to me, she wouldn’t talk to her other friends, it was just a bad time—I was really worried about her.

“Then one Saturday afternoon after class, Ellen stormed off in a huff—we’d been fighting about something stupid, I forget what now—and she took off on foot down to the lake. Okay, so not fifteen minutes later this huge storm blows in, and the sky is just black, and I’m worried sick that Ellen’s about to get stuck out in this downpour. So I put on my sneakers and ran as fast as I could down to the lake, which is almost a mile and a half from here.

“Of course as soon as I got there, it started raining cats and dogs, and I was soaked in like, two seconds. Well, the lightening was so bad I was afraid we were both going to be toast before we could even get back to the dorms. Well, she started into me about following her down there, and not respecting her privacy, and I’m still not sure what happened, but I just snapped. I told her I wanted to know what was going on with her, and I wasn’t going to take ‘no’ for an answer,” Christy chuckled to herself at the memory. “So I jumped into the lake, and I told her I wasn’t going to come out until she told me what was wrong.”

“What happened?” Olivia leaned forward, eyes shining.

“Oh, that,” Christy laughed again. “She screamed at me that I was crazy, and she hoped I got a lightening bolt straight up my ass for being so dumb.”

Olivia threw back her head and guffawed. “Then what?”

“Then she pleaded with me to get out before I really did kill myself, and I just swam around laughing, asking why she suddenly cared so much.

“Well, she got more and more nervous, and I kept asking why she was so concerned, and finally she just got fed up and yelled, ‘because I’m in love with you, you damn fool!’”

Olivia chortled again, and Christy looked enamored.

“So I stood up, marched straight out of the water, right up to where she was standing on the dock, and I said to her, ‘well, why didn’t you just say so?’”

“Ahhhh,” Olivia smiled hugely.

“And she took me into her arms and she kissed me until I saw stars,” Christy finished with a satisfied sigh. “And so now I don’t let a day go by that I don’t tell her that I love her.”

“That’s a great story,” Olivia agreed.

Christy shook off the haze surrounding her and focused on Olivia. “So what about you?” she prodded. “What was your first kiss like?”

“I’ll let you know when it happens,” Olivia replied simply.

“Ooooh, who is going to be the lucky kissee?”

“Not sure,” Olivia began unlacing her running shoes. “There’s this…girl, that I like, but she’s been sending me kind-of mixed signals…and I can’t really figure out if she likes me…you know, that way, or if she just likes me.”

“Alex is a mystery,” Christy mused in agreement.

“Alex!” Olivia blurted, bewildered. “What makes you so sure it’s Alex?”

“Well, if I hadn’t already had some suspicion, that reaction certainly sealed the deal.”

Olivia kicked herself. “So how did you know? Was I too obvious? I was too obvious, wasn’t I?” She carefully emptied the pebbles out of her running shoes, watching Christy out of the corner of her eye.

“Not at all. At least, not to the casual observer. But I noticed just because…I don’t know, you just light up around Alex in a different way. When we’re just sitting around talking and someone mentions her name, you blush like…like someone just told you your underwear was showing.” Christy smiled warmly. “You’re in love, it’s natural.”

“Aiiii,” Olivia sighed, defeated. “There’s nothing natural about it,” she whined. “I can’t sleep, I think about her all the time, she’s right there, constantly. And I just have no one to talk to.”

“We’re talking now,” Christy pointed out.

“She’s…driving me crazy,” Olivia admitted. “I can’t figure out if she’s gay, I can’t figure out if she’s into me, or just oblivious, or if she’s teasing me because she’s sadistic and she knows I’m looking…”

Christy laughed. “She’s not sadistic, Liv…and she’s not oblivious. Alex is probably one of the smartest, most observant people that I’ve ever met, and she wouldn’t just fuck with you for the fun of it. So she’s either confused herself…or she’s not.”

“So what would you do?”

“Honestly? I would wait for Alex to make the first move. But then again, I’m shy,” Christy grinned and flushed.

“Shy, my ass!” Jump in a lake in the middle of a lightening storm and call yourself shy!” Olivia chuffed.

“’Tis a fault, to be sure,” Christy agreed blithely, leaning back against the old tree once more.

“Well, thanks,” Olivia finally said, after a moment. “Thanks for the advice. Thanks for being a friend.”

“Yeah, you owe me big time,” Christy joked, her eyes closed peacefully as she relaxed, reclined.

“Maybe for your anniversary you can offer to re-enact the dramatic moment that brought you together,” Olivia teased in return.

“Yeah, Ellen wouldn’t kill me over that or anything,” Christy remarked dryly.

“I wouldn’t kill you over what?” Ellen asked as she loped up.

“We were actually discussing our anniversary, and it’s a surprise,” Christy sat up and preened demurely as Ellen plopped herself down across from the two girls. Ellen rolled her eyes playfully.

“Keep your little secrets, then,” she groused good-naturedly.

“Okay, let’s zip through this, Alex and I have a pizza date in a less than an hour,” Olivia grabbed for the playbook.

Ellen and Christy shared a significant look, but didn’t give Olivia a hard time as they got down to business.  

 

It had taken almost an hour and a half to finish the game plan for the following week’s game, and Olivia was exhausted. She trudged away from the small meeting with little energy. She wondered how pissed Alex would be that their meeting had run late, and had a naughty little thought about the myriad ways that Olivia could make it up to her.

She stumbled along the third floor hall, sighing in grateful relief when she reached her own room.

“What’s going on with Christy Cameron?” Alex asked as soon as Olivia walked through the door, her lips pinched.

“What’ya mean?” Olivia tossed her sports bag in the storage closet and kicked off her tennis shoes. Alex had stopped going through her laundry when Olivia came in the room, and now she was standing beside her bed, hands on her hips.

“What’s going with you and Christy Cameron?” Alex rephrased, boldly.

“Nothing,” Olivia promised, unsure as to what Alex was getting at. “Why?”

“I saw you just now, with her.”

“Yeah, she and I and Ellen are trying to recruit another girls’ soccer teams to play, in a real league,” Olivia got excited, distracted. “Ellen’s been calling some other schools, St. Mike’s, St. Jude’s, Holy Family…she thinks we have a real shot at getting some of them to get together for matches.”

“I just saw you and Christy,” Alex faltered, fidgeting.

“That? Alex, we were just talking,” Olivia said, before stripping off her dirt-caked jersey. She sniffed experimentally under her arms. “Why do you even care?”

Alex squared her shoulders. “I don’t.”

“Yeah, right,” Olivia retorted, under her breath, moving to the closet to grab her own bag of dirty clothes.

“Yeah right, what?” Alex taunted.

“Yeah right you just interrogated me about hanging out with a friend. What’s the big deal, Alex?” Olivia argued, her movements jerky and angry.

“Nothing,” Alex insisted, going back to sorting her laundry.

Olivia sighed, blowing air out from her nose to ruffle her short bangs. “I can promise…nothing’s going on. Christy is seeing someone,” she threw in casually, hoping Alex would take the bait.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Alex’s eyes flashed, the way they always did when she was angry. She turned away from her piles of clothes again, to stare Olivia down.

“What do you think it means?” Olivia asked softly, not backing down.

A sharp knock at the door interrupted the argument.

“Girls! I need your laundry!” Mrs. Beasley called through the door before opening it. Olivia sorted her darks and colors quickly, while Mrs. Beasley tapped her foot and looked impatient. Alex dumped her own clothes into the basket on top of Olivia’s, and then the baskets were loaded on Mrs. Beasley’s cart before disappearing down the hall.

“Alex!” Katie Fitzpatrick was standing in the hall, two doors down. “I need your help for a minute.” She glared at Olivia and Olivia stuck her tongue out in response.

“To be continued,” Alex threatened darkly as she passed Olivia in the doorway.

Olivia pasted on her best fake-smile. “Can’t wait!”

Alex and Katie went into Katie’s room and the door rattled harder than necessary against the frame as it was closed.

Olivia couldn’t help but smile to herself. So Alex was jealous…

But, she thought, deflated, now she was also pissed off at Olivia. Liv sighed again as she washed out her jersey and shorts in the shower stall, watching the mud run down the drain, scrubbing at the strong stains. She hung them to dry in the shower stall, hoping she could catch the laundry cart.

She wrapped herself in a towel before crossing her room to the bureau to pick out underwear and socks. She hoped Alex would come back in a few minutes so that Olivia could apologize, they could make up and go get dinner the way they had planned that afternoon. She had barely begun rifling through the drawer when Mrs. Beasley barged in without knocking.

“Where’s Alexandra?” she demanded.

Olivia looked up, bemused. “I think she’s down in Katie Fitzpatrick’s room…is something wrong?”

“I’ll find her,” Mrs. Beasley left the room in the same whirlwind she’d come in on, and through the thin walls, Olivia could hear her pound on Katie’s door. Olivia strained to hear what was going on, but didn’t dare poke her head out into the hall and risk the wrath of Battle-Ax Beasley.

She didn’t have to wait long, because less than a minute later, Alex bustled into the room, intent.

“Alex? What’s going on? Is something wrong?”

Alex stopped, looking penitent. “Liv, I’m sorry, I know we had plans tonight, but I have to go to Albany. Mrs. Kennedy already called for a cab.”

Olivia furrowed her brow. The nearest town, a drab little affair called Newport, was just about ten minutes away and was usually sufficient for any supplies or shopping that the girls needed. Albany was almost an hour south, however.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“My mother. She fainted at one of her charity fund-raisers. They think maybe it was a heart attack.”

“God, Alex. I’m sorry,” Olivia sighed heavily. “What can I do?”

“Will you…will you come with me?”

“Yes!” Olivia immediately replied, and then cringed at her own over-eagerness. Alex just looked relieved, though, and she began moving again, towards her dresser.

“Do I have time for a shower?”

“Yes, but hurry. I’ll pack,” Alex consulted her watch.

“Bring the blue sweater, oh, and the jeans with the hole,” Olivia requested as Alex practically pushed her into the bathroom. Olivia showered with haste, and when she returned to the room, she found Alex standing at Olivia’s dresser, uncertain.

“What’s wrong?” Olivia asked, approaching from behind. Alex turned to see Olivia wearing only a pristine white bath towel and she swallowed thickly.

“I don’t know…pick your underwear,” Alex requested, blushing as she turned away. Olivia smiled to herself as she packed her underclothes and toiletries into her duffel bag. She threw on the mauve sweater her mother had sent down for her birthday and jeans and was in the process of combing her hair when they heard the horn of the cab down below.

Alex herded Olivia out of the door, turning off lights and locking up. They ran down the stairs and out to the drive before anyone could catch Olivia sneaking out. The taxi pulled out of the gates without either of the two girls turning around for a glance.

Olivia settled in her seat, shivering slightly. Alex reached for her hand, for warmth or just for comfort, Olivia couldn’t tell and didn’t care. She held Alex’s hand almost the entire drive through upstate New York towards Albany.

“What’s going to happen?” Olivia asked when they entered the city limits.

“Well, I suppose we’ll go to the hospital, check on her. Then we’ll probably check into a hotel tonight. Tomorrow is anyone’s guess. If you’re worried about Monday, I’ll send you back in a cab if I have to stay.”

“I’m more worried about what’s going to happen when they find out I’ve been gone,” Olivia confessed.

“Don’t worry about that, I’ll tell them I kidnapped you,” Alex grinned.

“That will go over so well,” Olivia gave her the Look.

“Like a screen door on a submarine!” Alex agreed cheerfully. Olivia couldn’t help but chuckle at the imagery of that, and Alex squeezed her hand tighter.

“Thank you for coming. I can’t tell you what it means to me.”

“I’m sorry I goaded you into that fight this afternoon,” Olivia replied, and Alex closed her fingers over Olivia’ mouth to quiet her. She leaned in very close.

“I started it, and I’m the one who should be sorry. It was ridiculous to fight,” she whispered. Olivia could feel the warm sting of Alex’s breath against her face, and she didn’t try to argue or say anything more in her defense.

They remained silent until they reached the hospital, and then it became a rush of noise, activity, and self-importance. One of Alex's family members whisked her away, but not before she shot a wistful look at Olivia that said everything and nothing all at once. She disappeared behind steel double doors.

Olivia settled into one of the hospital-green plastic chairs that were waiting room chic. She thumbed through well-worn tabloids that were three and four months old, then she watched infomercials on the small TV in the corner. She wasn’t sure at what point she dozed off, but the next thing she was conscious of was a haggard Alex waking her, trying to pull her cramped and aching body from her chair.

They didn’t say much as they left the hospital, Alex didn’t attempt to take her hand or touch her in any way, and it left Olivia feeling empty. The night was dark, very cold, and an icy gust of wind was blowing from the north, shaking everything that wasn’t bolted down. They didn’t bother calling a cab, there was a hotel on the outer edge of the hospital parking lot, and Alex led her companion through a small hedge and right up to the front door.

Olivia stayed outside, content to be chilly for the moment as she watched through the wide glass doors as Alex booked a room and paid for the night. One day she would get up the nerve to ask Alex just how money was waiting for her in her trust when she came of age. For whatever reason, Olivia wanted to know that the same way she wanted to know everything else about Alex, and she wasn’t sure if that was creepy and stalker-ish, or just concerned and curious.

 Alex returned with a room key, and led them around the side of the building to the stairwell entrance. They ascended and when they reached the door of room 212, Alex opened it without pomp.

“I got one with two beds,” she noted idly. Olivia entered the room, it was stark, but clean, and it would certainly make do for a night or two.

“I’m starving,” Olivia whispered, wrapping her arms around her torso for warmth.

“I asked the desk clerk to send up some sandwiches, he said that he would,” Alex nodded, then crossed to the heating unit and flipped it on, getting immediate gratification in the form of a sultry breath across her face.

“You should shower, change,” Olivia said softly as she came to stand next to her friend. She was almost a half of a foot taller than Alex was; but Alex commanded respect in a way that Olivia couldn’t. Alex carried herself the way that most adult women did not, she was graceful, yet Olivia still caught glimpses of the clumsy uncertainty of youth at times. Alex made up in attitude what she lacked in stature. The black framed glasses that Olivia adored so sat proud atop high cheekbones, and for a moment Olivia could see Alex picking out those frames, an attempt to hide from the world, and yet, be distinguished in it at the same time.

“Yes,” Alex agreed after a moment, catching Olivia’s gaze and holding it. She shuffled towards the bathroom, still bone-tired, and a second later, the water started running for a bath. Olivia changed into an old sleep shirt and shorts, and was putting on thermal socks when the bellhop knocked on the door with their dinner. Olivia took it from him and set up their meal on the carpet at the foot of the bed.

Alex joined her a few minutes later, and sank down onto her knees in weary relief. “I could eat a horse,” she proclaimed, her voice already sleepy.

Olivia agreed by silently nodding and taking a huge bite out of her sandwich. They shared a bag of chips, and a soda. Olivia thought of her earlier plans to have a “picnic” on the floor of their dorm room, and the irony made her snort in appreciation for the way life could fuck a girl over sometimes. Alex gave her an amused look, but didn’t question her.

After they were finished, Olivia threw away the trash and brushed her teeth before crawling into the far bed, leaving Alex the bed closest to the heater. Alex finished up in the bathroom and then came to stand at the foot of the bed, and the plaintive look on her face took Olivia’s breath away. Wordlessly, Olivia pulled back the covers next to her body and scooted over to allow Alex to crawl in next to her on the mattress. Pulling the covers back over both of them, Olivia spooned Alex’s backside, her breath hitching as Alex pulled Olivia’s arm around her body in a tighter embrace. One of them managed to turn out the light before they settled back down to sleep. Olivia’s cheek was pressed against the sleek silkiness of Alex’s hair, the scent invigorating and inviting.

Olivia’s heart pounded wildly as Alex lay there in her arms, feeling warm and oh-so-soft. What did this mean? Could it be that Alex was thinking of Olivia as much as Olivia was thinking of Alex? Could it be something more than plenty of long gazes, plenty of heated arguments?

Alex heaved in her grasp, and Olivia’s heart fell to the pit of her stomach when she realized Alex was weeping. She shushed, made comforting sounds as she rocked her friend gently. Alex turned over, threw her arms around Olivia’s neck and sobbed. Olivia’s nipples were hard and throbbing against Alex’s chest, and she abashedly wondered if this compared at all to the embarrassment boys felt when their bodies betrayed them similarly.

Alex continued to cry, and Olivia’s hand reached over to stroke Alex’s back, to bring her a little comfort. The soft nothings being whispered right into Alex’s ear seemed to help, and after a moment, Olivia felt Alex pull away just long enough to dry her eyes on her pajama top.

“I’m sorry, Olivia. You’ve been such a good friend,” Alex murmured in the dark. Olivia could smell the minty freshness of her toothpaste being whispered against the skin of her face.

“I…” Olivia trailed off, not finding the words she needed to tell Alex how she felt.

It was Alex’s turn to shush Olivia as she closed gentle, chilled fingers against the warm plumpness of Olivia’s lips. Alex trailed the same hand down Olivia’s chin, and then her throat, her breath catching. Olivia was also finding it hard to consume the oxygen she needed, and she let out a shaky sigh. Alex leaned forward without another sound and brushed her lips so briefly against Liv’s that Olivia couldn’t be certain that it had even happened.

Then again, and Olivia knew she hadn’t imagined it. She reached up tenderly and took Alex’s face between her hands, angling Alex’s head back just slightly. She melded her mouth against Alex’s, feeling an exploratory tongue against her own lips. Olivia swallowed Alex’s delicate moan of pleasure as Olivia’s fingers brushed Alex’s breast through her pajama top. Tongues met and squirmed against one another and Olivia’s hot pant of breath against Alex’s lips seemed to spurn her on, because Alex repositioned her mouth for better access.

“Oh, God, Liv,” Alex whispered, her tone as erotic as Olivia had ever heard it. “I adore you,” was whispered so softly, Olivia wasn’t sure exactly what was said. All she could discern was that Alex was more passionate than Olivia ever would have given her credit for.

“Believe me,” Olivia kissed Alex once, twice. “When I say…” Kiss. “That ending this…” Long breath, another drugging, dragging kiss. “Is not what I want to do.”

“But?” Alex whispered back, confused, her berry-pink lips swollen sensuously.

“We have to get up early, and we’re both so tired,” Olivia shared another long kiss with her friend, and then rested her forehead against Alex’s, still holding her close.

Alex nodded, knowing Olivia was right, knowing they needed to sleep.

“Thank you, again, Olivia, for coming with me,” she whispered, holding Olivia’s hand to her chest, over her heart.

“The pleasure was all mine.”  

* * * 

They were up and dressed by eight o’clock the next morning, hurrying across the black, freezing asphalt of the hospital parking lot. The hospital was almost as silent as a tomb on this Sunday morning, such a marked difference from the hustle and bustle of the night before. Without any officious family members standing around directing traffic, Olivia was free to follow Alex down the hall towards the room that Alex’s mother was in.

Olivia pulled up another uncomfortable chair—purple this time—outside the door in the hallway, and promised Alex with her eyes that she would wait there as long as Alex needed her. Alex closed the door to her mother’s room and Olivia pulled a paperback novel from her shoulder bag and began to read.  

 

89 pages later, a commotion arose at the end of the hall that Olivia was finally forced to break her concentration to investigate. Two high-strung young men were hurrying down the hall at a rather frantic pace, headed directly for her. They decided to enter the room without consulting her, a little rude, Olivia felt, since it was obvious she was there as a watchdog.

Alex had them both out in the hall a few seconds later to give them hell.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded to know.

“Al, we heard your mom had a heart attack, we came as soon as we could.”

Al? Olivia was sure Alex would rip him a new one about it, but before Alex had the opportunity, the second young man spoke. “Yeah, we had a game last night.”

“How thoughtful,” Alex retorted dryly.

The first guy stepped forward into her personal space, and put a hand on her shoulder. Olivia recognized him as the boy Alex had been dancing with the night of the St. Christopher mixer, Sam Merriweather…

He was a good looking young man, even in his preppie sweater and chinos, shiny brown loafers only missing a bright penny to make his as nerdy as possible. What was Alex supposed to see in him? His hair was dark, but receding a little already at the temples. To his advantage, he had bright blue eyes almost as striking as Alex’s, and they conveyed a sincerity and trust that he probably rarely truly felt.

His friend was wearing blue Dockers and a green-and-blue argyle sweater, but with brown dress shoes and a brown belt. His hair was a sandy blonde, just a little long over his ears. A few more months without a haircut and he could be one of the wanna-be surfers that hung out on the pier and talked like they were from sunny Cali.

“Come on, don’t be that way,” Sam coaxed as Alex shrugged his hand away from her shoulder. Olivia’s attention was drawn to the opposite end of the hall, where James Abernathy and another man were meandering slowly, as if they had all the time in the world. She missed part of the conversation, and only turned back to the arguing couple in time to hear Alex say:

“So that still doesn’t explain why you came all the way down here.” She was as impassive as Olivia had ever seen her.

“This is big, Al. You think I wouldn’t come see my girlfriend?” Sam asked.

Olivia’s head riveted around fast enough to give her whiplash, and Alex turned to her, stricken. Alex didn’t say anything but Olivia read it as plain as day on Alex’s face. I wasn’t supposed to hear that. Since when was Alex anyone’s girlfriend?

“Yeah,” Argyle-Sweater added, breaking Olivia’s concentration from her internal tangent. “It was all I could do to keep his head in the game last night. He wanted to drive all the way down at like, midnight.”

“Sam, glad to see you here,” James Abernathy approached the small group, pointedly ignoring Olivia. “Jake,” he shook hands with Argyle-Sweater and then with the younger Sam Merriweather.

Olivia ascertained from the ensuing conversation that the older man with Mr. Abernathy was indeed Sam Merriweather II, and Jake-of-the-Geeky-Sweaters had one or two parents in very high places. Alex looked like she was ready to either barf or kick someone’s ass, Olivia couldn’t tell. For her part, she didn’t know whether to think that Sam and Alex truly were dating, “boyfriend and girlfriend,” going steady or whatever…or if Sam just thought they were and Alex let him believe it. With Alex, there was really no telling, though from the look she had given Olivia, Liv knew that Alex was definitely hiding something.

“Listen, I talked to the doctor a half an hour ago, and Mother is going to be fine,” Alex finally blurted, impatiently. “It’s an arrhythmia, they are going to treat her and release her into Mr. Abernathy’s care this afternoon. Olivia and I will be leaving today around three, and talking a cab back to St. Agatha’s.”

“We can drive you,” Jake offered immediately, but Alex shook her head.

“That’s not necessary, but thank you.”

“It’s no trouble, Allie,” Sam insisted.

“I said no thank you,” Alex’s tone could have frozen hell over, and Sam backed up a step with his hands up.

James Abernathy stepped forward and took Alex into his arms, and she resisted wholeheartedly, not even raising a finger to return the embrace. After a few stiff moments, he stepped back again and then breezed past her and into his wife’s room. His partner followed him, leaving the four young people out in the hall once more.

“Well, it looks like everything is fine here,” Sam stated. Thank you, Captain Obvious, Olivia thought unkindly.

“Yes, a fact which could have been relayed on the phone,” Alex’s tone was clipped.

“Al, I know this is hard for you, but you don’t have to take it out on us.”

“My apologies,” she offered, bowing her head in silent communication of her deference. Jake had already moved off down the hall, to inspect the doctor’s workstation, or perhaps a pretty nurse, and Sam sent him a concerned glance as if he was going to get into trouble looking at tongue depressors. Maybe Sam could get him a little leash, like the ones parents put on their unruly children.

“I’ll call you later,” Sam leaned forward, but Alex turned her face away, and his kiss landed on her cheek. He didn’t try again. He walked away without another word, pulling Jake by the arm back into step.

Alex squeezed Olivia’s bicep as she went back into her mother’s room, and Olivia was left with only her thoughts.  

* * * 

 

The ride back to St. Agatha’s had been frosty and without conversation. The girls sat as far away from one another as possible, both clinging to opposite door handles for the duration of the trip. As soon as they were back, both were taken immediately into solitary confinement for a period of seventy-two hours, as punishment. Three days in a single dorm room with nothing but a bed, a chair, and her own rampaging thoughts to keep Olivia company.

Late Sunday night they allowed Olivia to take a phone call from her mother, in which Serena relayed how angry and disappointed she was in Olivia’s behavior. Olivia had to admit she was angry and disappointed herself. Mrs. Kennedy and Alice King had locked her up to punish her thinking that no magazines, no nail polish and no giggly gossiping with friends would be fitting deprivation for her “joyride” to Albany with Alex. Likewise, Alex was thrown in isolation for allowing Olivia to be her stowaway, and for not making contact with school officials to report their whereabouts.

What they failed to realize was that Olivia considered being separated from Alex a blessing, for the moment. She hadn’t wanted to fight with Alex about what happened—about Sam Merriweather—until after she’d had the time and energy to collect her thoughts and compose herself. Time away was also a curse—going over and over in her mind wasn’t helping, constantly worrying, letting it eat away at her heart like a cancer.

She lay on the bed, rested her chin in her cupped palm and sighed. What was Alex thinking about? Sam Merriweather? His thin lips, dark peach fuzz above them that made him look young and pretentious? The thought made Olivia’s stomach churn, but if Alex had been leading her on, who knew how she truly felt about Sam. Olivia longed to be able to think of something else—anything else—but her mind kept leaping back to The Kiss.

Had Alex known what she was doing, what it meant? Or was it that it didn’t mean to Alex what it meant to Olivia? What if it was nothing more solace from a friend during a difficult situation?

What Olivia couldn’t ignore, however, was Alex’s lusty moan of pleasure, straining against Olivia for more skin, more contact. That wasn’t exactly a platonic receipt of comfort. There was passion there that wasn’t easily or conveniently explained away. Alex had been aroused.

Her schoolwork and assignments had been delivered that morning, but Olivia couldn’t bring herself to buckle down and do it, however distracting it might prove to be. She only had six hours of her imposed confinement left, and she had to figure out what she was going to say to Alex the next time she saw her roommate-cum-lover.

Olivia coughed violently into her hand. She’d been fighting a cold for the last several days, and losing. Mrs. Kennedy has brought her some cough syrup, but thus far it had brought little relief. Mrs. K wouldn’t be pleased to hear the infection was worsening, as she had already labeled Olivia as a troublemaker, and she would probably assume this was another stunt for attention.

She curled up into the fetal position to nap for a while before she was released from purgatory. Sleep came easier than she imagined it would.  

 

Olivia awoke instantly to the sound of loud, insistent knocking. Her heart was racing from the sudden rush to consciousness, her breathing harsh and unsteady in the quiet of the room. There was a pregnant pause, and then more pounding.

Olivia tried to answer, but found she had no voice. Her skin felt clammy, but her face was burning up. Mrs. Kennedy unlocked the door and was startled to find her young charge so ill. Olivia coughed again, her throat aching and eyes watering.

Mrs. Kennedy tucked Olivia back in without a word. Olivia tried to find the strength to protest, to get out of bed, but her muscles felt weak. Mrs. Kennedy clucked, and insisted she lay back before leaving the room in a hurry.

She returned with the school nurse, Mrs. Pitcannon, who took Olivia’s temperature and put a cold compress on her forehead to draw the fever out. She made Olivia swallow several aspirin, and some more cough syrup. She declared Olivia had a cold, probably from all that brutish rugby playing. If she had more energy, Olivia would have rolled her eyes. It couldn’t possibly have been those two days spent in a hospital around the ailing and diseased.

Mrs. Kennedy and Mrs. Pitcannon both left after a few more minutes of fussing over their patient and Olivia stared at the ceiling, now wide awake. A soft knock came from the door and Alex slipped in before she got an affirmative or negative response. Coming over to the bed, she gingerly sat next to Olivia’s supine body and stroked her face gently.

“I’m sorry, Liv,” she whispered, uncharacteristically worried. “This is all my fault.”

Olivia shook her head, unable and unwilling to speak. Alex bit her lip, as if debating with herself on whether to stay or go, and Olivia took Alex’s hand in her own.

“Hagman gave us Pride and Prejudice to read, your favorite. I thought I would read some to you, if you want.”

Olivia nodded. Alex smiled gratefully and pulled the novel out of the back pocket of her jeans. Faint sunlight was still visible from the window, and Alex read until it was almost too dark to see and Olivia’s eyes were drooping drowsily. Alex closed her paperback and scooted in next to Olivia, curling up next to her friend on the narrow bed.

Olivia relished the body contact, though she was concerned that Alex was going to make herself sick, she couldn’t protest. She wondered just before she drifted off to sleep if Mrs. Kennedy was going to catch Alex, or if Alex was going to sneak out before she was discovered. Olivia honestly wasn’t sure which she preferred.  

 

 

Alex woke Olivia the following morning before dawn. She felt Olivia’s forehead, and prepared the compress with icy water. Olivia had the chills, and so Alex bundled her up with an extra blanket, but exposed Olivia’s feet, which Alex then rubbed vigorously with her hands in an attempt to get the blood circulating again. Olivia moaned incoherently and Alex bit her lip, unwilling to leave but unable to miss another day of class without repercussions. She kissed Olivia’s brow gently before promising to come back after Euro Lit.

Mrs. Kennedy came in while Alex was away, was surprised to find the compress freshly hydrated, but didn’t comment on it. She made Olivia sit up and eat a couple of bites of oatmeal and some juice before giving her more cough syrup and putting her back to bed.

Olivia didn’t wake up again until almost noon, and she was feeling better than she had in several days. Alex was there, her back against the mattress and bed frame, reading, and eating her lunch.

“Hey,” Olivia croaked.

“Hey,” Alex’s face lit up in a smile so genuine Olivia couldn’t help but wonder if she’d seen nothing but fakes until that moment. She held up the novel they’d been reading the night before. “Mr. Collins is about to propose to Elizabeth,” her eyes shone with mischief. “And if you eat some soup, I’ll tell you all about it.”

“Soup?” Olivia asked, glancing at Alex’s sandwich. Alex pulled a Thermos from a brown paper sack and handed it to Olivia, along with a polished spoon.

“I bribed Mrs. Kennedy in to letting me bring this to you,” Alex confessed, going back to the book as Olivia popped the lid on the Thermos and began taking a few, hesitant bites.

“So we left off last night sometime around the party at Lucas Lodge…or was it Netherfield?”

Olivia couldn’t remember either, but she’d already read the book several times before, so it didn’t matter much. Alex picked up where she eventually ascertained she had left off, and began reading. She had finished several chapters before she realized that at some point, Olivia had nodded off again. Alex gathered up her belongings and noticed with some satisfaction that Olivia had eaten every bite.  

Olivia was allowed to return to her own room the following morning, but just in case she remained in her room for the day, completing her homework assignments and sending them to her professors for review. She wondered if the other students were curious about her absence, or if they even noticed. She knew Ellen had, her coach was probably ready to kill her after missing three practices, and in all likelihood, the game the next day as well.

Alex came by after Euro Lit to give her back her graded test for the first part of Jane Austen’s best novel, and handed it over with a dramatic flair rarely shown by the composed young lady.

“My good opinion, once lost, is lost forever,” she quoted, pointing to Olivia’s ‘A’. “But you seemed to have kept it for another day,” she winked, and checked Olivia’s forehead with the back of her hand for a fever. Olivia reached for and took Alex’s hand between her fingers before Alex could pull away.

“I was…I was ready to fight with you about Sam Merriweather on Wednesday, whenever they let us out of solitary. But now, I don’t want to fight.”

“He’s not my boyfriend, Liv,” Alex stated, uncomfortable. “At one time, we dated exclusively…well, as much as you can date at private schools where you’re not really allowed to leave. But I told him last year that I wasn’t ready to date anyone. He didn’t get the hint.”

“I wish you would have said something to him,” Olivia said honestly, her voice still hoarse.

Alex winced. “Me too.”

Olivia decided a change of subject was in order, so she sighed heavily, as if to shake off any remaining doubts. “I think I want to go to dinner with you tonight.”

“Are you sure?” Alex asked, concerned.

“Yeah. I’m feeling better, and I think it’s time I saw everyone again, or they really will think you kidnapped me.”

“You’re fever is down, you’re not sweating and you don’t have the chills. I’m sure Mrs. K will let you loose if you really feel better.”

“Go ask her, will you?” Olivia grinned at her friend, and Alex looked torn, but what about, Olivia wasn’t sure. She promised to come back over the lunch hour, and as she was prone to do, she left the room soundlessly.  

 

“Well, Hell’s Bells,” Ellen stood up and welcomed Olivia back to their group with a fervent hug. Christy just smiled from her chair beside Ellen’s while Alex pulled out a chair directly across from the couple. She knew Olivia wanted to see Ellen, explain her absence and try to work out some sort of a schedule regarding the missed practices. Ellen was just glad to see Olivia was back and ready to play, but Olivia hadn’t been convinced of that until she’d sat down to talk with the overly-enthusiastic rugby captain.

“Amy Madison, two o’clock, headed this way like a torpedo,” Ellen commented out of the side of her mouth.

“You shush,” Christy admonished gently. “She’s a sweet girl.”

“Like a rabid dog,” Ellen retorted.

“As if you have a leg to stand on there, Sir Black Pot. Or would you prefer to be the kettle?” Christy asked, her tone sugary.

“Livia!” Amy exclaimed profusely, throwing her arms around her recently recovered friend. “Where have you been?” she demanded.

“Sick as a dog, among other things,” Olivia answered, laughing at the ebullience of her dear little friend. Caroline Cartwright also approached, albeit more shyly, and welcomed Olivia back as well. They pulled up chairs to the table to join the small group of friends. They talked about nothing in particular, patently avoiding any discussion of the “Albany Incident”, as they would come to refer to it later.

Mrs. Kennedy finally kicked them all out of the dining hall at nine and made them retreat back to the dorms. Olivia looked both relieved and ready to drop over by the time Alex marched her back to their room. She tucked Olivia in despite weak protesting and went to take a shower. By the time she returned, Olivia was fast asleep.  

 

* * * 

“I swear to God, I’m gone for a week and the rugby team goes to shit,” Olivia griped as her team lost another point. Alex gave her a sympathetic glance, but she understood even less about the game than most of the players.

“Maybe you should get out there and help them,” Alex teased, nudging Olivia’s shoulder with her own.

“Yeah, Old Lady Kennedy would loooove that. I bet I’d get suspended for another week, lorded over by Mrs. Pitcannon as punishment, discussing all the etiquette of team sports brutality, tackling do’s, and don’ts…”

“Olivia, you wanna ref or what?” Ellen hollered up into the bleachers.

“No way, Alex has me benched,” Olivia called back, giving them a what-can-you-do shrug. Ellen didn’t argue, but jogged away to find a willing victim.

“What a cool liar you are,” Alex whispered, grinning. Olivia didn’t answer, but gazed at Alex’s face fondly.

“That’s a lovely smile you have, Miss Cabot. Why don’t I see it more often?”

Alex ducked her pretty head, embarrassed to answer, Olivia guessed. She decided to alleviate Alex’s distress. “So I was thinking...when I went up to Christy’s room to borrow a dress, she and Ellen have painted up there. They painted an entire wall maroon.”

“Yeah?”

“So my mom sent me some money for the month, and I was thinking we could go into town tomorrow and buy some paint, and do a wall in our room.”

“What color?”

“Actually,” Olivia reached for her shoulder bag and pulled out a sketch of a checkerboard pattern, but had labeled the squares with four different shades of blue, in a seemingly random pattern. “I was thinking about a blue mosaic. I love blue, you love blue. I think it would be perfect.”

“So, navy, indigo, royal blue and sky blue,” Alex pointed to Olivia’s key.

“Basically, we’d need a can of each, a yard stick to measure and pencil off exact dimensions, a couple of brushes, maybe some shellac. It wouldn’t take us long it we were both working on it. One or two days at the most,” Olivia became more excited as she talked, waving the paper chart around avidly.

“We could paint the inside of both doors either indigo or the royal blue as contrast,” Alex added.

“I was thinking about curtains for the window, too,” Olivia gestured to her floor plan. “Maybe in the navy or indigo if we do the doors in the royal blue.”

“That’s a great…”

“Well, look who it is,” a sneering voice interrupted the girls’ gleeful planning. Olivia’s smile faded when she saw Rachel Ramsey standing directly in front of Alex, arms akimbo. “I hear you were on the lam, Alexandra.”

“Not that it’s any of your business, Rachel, but I was called away to Albany. You must have heard Mrs. Abernathy collapsed.”

“Yes, I heard. Sam Merriweather called me to ask about your little leech,” Rachel said casually, as if it weren’t the very reason she came over. Olivia was trying to think of what Rachel could possibly mean when it hit her like a ton of bricks: Rachel was talking about her. As if she wasn’t even there. Olivia’s blood started to boil, and she glared at Rachel.

“Oh, you mean my best friend, Olivia,” Alex replied sweetly, taking Olivia’s hand, in a forced gesture.

“Whatever, my mother already called Cici, and she’s going to hear about what a little delinquent you’re turning into. Skipping school, coming to these barbaric rugby…games, and that you’re hanging around with trash,” Rachel flipped her hair over her shoulder in an uppity gesture of superiority, turned on a heel and promptly fell down the steps of the bleachers.

“Golly,” Christy said innocently as she climbed up to sit near Alex and Olivia. “Rachel’s going to have to learn how to be more careful. People leave stuff lying around all the time out here!”

“Somehow I suspect this isn’t the first arranged accident Rachel has been subjected to,” Olivia said dryly. Her anger had slowed to a simmer seeing Rachel get what was coming to her, but it wasn’t far from the surface. Christy shrugged, her _expression righteous.

“Who is Cici?” she asked, pulling her hair up into a loose ponytail.

“Mrs. Abernathy…the girls still call her Catherine, or Cici,” Alex answered shortly.

Ellen bounded up, and observed the aftermath of Rachel’s fall. She turned to Christy, playfully incorrigible.

“Did Rachel trip over herself again? You know, the more cruel she gets, the clumsier she gets,” Ellen noted thoughtfully. Rachel stood up, her lip bloody. She glared at Ellen and Alex from the grass.

“Don’t think I don’t see you, Eleanor. I’m telling our mother!” Rachel stomped off and Ellen threw back her head and laughed.

“I don’t think I’ve even seen my mother in almost a year. As if anything she says over the phone is going to strike the fear of God into my heart.”

“Don’t listen to a word she says, Liv. She’s just mean,” Christy reached up with a finger to smooth away the worry line on Olivia’s forehead.

“I’m ready to go, I think,” Olivia finally said, standing. Alex reached for her, but Olivia was already halfway down the rickety steps.

“I have to go,” Alex apologized hastily, bidding her friends farewell.

Olivia escaped up to their room, slamming the door behind her. Hot tears came to her eyes, and she was just grateful she hadn’t let Rachel Ramsey see her cry. People like Rachel didn’t deserve the satisfaction of seeing their handiwork, and Olivia certainly wasn’t going to oblige her. She was against the door, as if to block the world out, when Alex came bursting through the bathroom door, breathless.

“Just go, Alex!” Olivia demanded, her voice breaking.

“No,” Alex refused, firm. “Don’t push me away, Liv.”

“It’s not that simple, Lex. Rachel’s right, you know. We’re from completely different worlds. We didn’t even come close to having the same things growing up…I mean, you’ve been to cotillions and charm school, I went to neighborhood pick-up games. You’ve been on cruises to countries I’ve only seen in textbooks. You’ve been to fancy restaurants and bars, and you know, where I come from, eating somewhere that didn’t have a drive-through was a special occasion. You’ve had everything in the world you’ve ever wanted, and I got nothing.”

“I wanted my father back,” Alex argued stubbornly. “I never wanted all the rest of that stuff. You’ve been the first honest person I’ve met since he died. Sometimes it feels like I have him back, the way you make me feel. Because I can tell you anything.”

“I don’t want to get you in trouble with your mother,” Olivia said quietly, looking at her feet.

“Is that what you’re worried about?” Alex scoffed. “That she’ll call and have me removed? Listen, my mother may have forced me to room with you, but she can’t take you away. It’s more trouble to room me by myself than with you, and if I want to room with you Mrs. Kennedy certainly won’t separate us.”

Olivia sighed, relieved. She sank onto the end of her bed, heavily. “Good.” Alex knelt in front of Olivia, taking Liv’s hands into her own warm palms.

“Liv,” she whispered, an endearment. Leaning forward, she captured Olivia’s lips in a gentle kiss. Olivia grinned as Alex very slowly eased her back onto the bed.

Once they were settled back onto the mattress, their eyes met in an intense stare. Alex licked her lips apprehensively.

“Now that we’re here, I’m a little nervous,” she whispered honestly.

Olivia nodded in agreement, her eyes wide.

“Have you ever done this before?” Alex asked, dreading the answer.

“Done what? Been with a girl?” It was Olivia’s turn to blush shyly. Surely unapproachable, forbidding Alex Cabot didn’t have more experience than she did… She shook her head. “I’ve never kissed another girl…I mean, besides you. I’ve never been with anyone.”

“Oh,” Alex breathed, looking relieved.

“What about you?”

“I’m…I’ve never slept with anyone. I’ve kissed Sam a few times, it was nothing special. And once, Katie wanted to practice French kissing and I tried it with her.”

Olivia gaped. “Katie Fitzpatrick?”

Alex bit her lip and nodded, suppressing a giggle. “She was really bad at it, too. Not like you.” She leaned in again, met Olivia’s lips softly, sweetly.

Alex pulled back abruptly. “I have an idea.”

Olivia looked at her expectantly, her head still against her pillow. Alex’s hair was haloed around Olivia’s face, making a golden curtain over her cheeks.

“Let’s go into town tonight,” Alex proposed, sitting up. “Let’s go out, and have dinner, and maybe go to a movie. And on the way home, we’ll stop and buy that paint. We can work on it all day tomorrow. But tonight let’s just go out and have fun.”

“Like a date?” Olivia asked, sitting up also.

“Well, of course to everyone else it will just be two friends out. I mean, plausible deniability and all that. But yeah, like a date.”

“And we won’t get in trouble?”

Alex snorted. “St. Aggie’s girls are always meeting boys in town for dates…or whatever. I’m more concerned about sneaking the paint cans in.”

“When’s curfew?”

“Midnight,” Alex patted Olivia’s denim-clad thigh in an almost-motherly gesture. “You change and I’ll find a newspaper, for movie listings.”

“Alex Cabot, ladies and gentlemen. Home decorator and evil mastermind, let’s give her a hand,” Olivia rose to bow comically, and Alex shoved her lightly, grinning. Alex then ducked in for a quick kiss, catching Olivia off-guard. Nonetheless, Olivia returned the offering with equal ardor, and after only a moment, she had Alex pinned against the closet door, squirming.

“Sorry,” Olivia tore her mouth away, gasping. The lower half of her body was still flush against Alex, grinding slowly.

“I’m not,” Alex wrapped a hand around Olivia’s nape and pulled her back in, their mouths tangling erotically.

A sharp knock on the door reigned in their passion like water dousing a lit match.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake!” Olivia sighed in frustration, backing away from her cornered prey. Alex straightened her blouse, breathing heavily.

“Come in,” she called, her voice unsteady.

“Alex, dear,” Mrs. Beasley poked her head in the door. “Your mother is on the phone down in my office. She would like to speak with you, she says it’s important.”

“Oh I’m sure it is,” Alex rolled her eyes and shot Olivia a disappointed glance before slipping out behind Mrs. Beasley. Olivia changed into a long-sleeved black blouse with a gauzy collar, on loan from Christy in anticipation of “getting a little action,” as Ellen so eloquently phrased it. She rifled through Alex’s side of the closet until she found a shell pink wool skirt that was long enough to still be decent on Olivia, since she was almost half-a-head taller than Alex.

Alex reentered the room, grimacing. “That was Mrs. Abernathy.”

“Bad news?”

Alex looked guilty. “Not bad, exactly. Just a little change in plans.”

“How little?”

“Okay, huge. But we’re still going out tonight.”

“Okaaaaaay,” Olivia played along. “Spill it, Cabot.”

“Well, Mrs. Abernathy apparently accepted an invitation on my behalf to have dinner with Sam and the partners of Mr. Abernathy’s firm tonight. I’m not sure when she was planning on delivering this glorious news, but she was calling to see if I could invite one of my ‘girlfriends’ along because Ben Baxter…you know, Isabel’s brother, is going to be down from Yale, and he doesn’t have a date.”

“Oh, God…I’m his date, aren’t I?”

“Oh, please, Liv, I would owe you big time. Please, please go with me. I don’t want to take anyone but you.”

Olivia grumbled. “Fine, but I’m ordering dessert.”

Alex smiled ethereally and gave Olivia a grateful hug and a peck on the lips. “You won’t regret it…Actually, you probably will. But don’t let that scare you.”

Olivia moaned pitifully and flopped backwards onto her mattress. Alex left for the bathroom, but didn’t shut the door behind her. “Do I at least look okay?” Olivia called to her, defeated. Alex poked her head back into the room.

“You look great,” she swore, waggling her eyebrows. Her head disappeared.

“What are you going to wear?”

“I don’t know…it’s chilly out. Probably the black dress…the one with the see-through sleeves?”

“Wear the blue,” Olivia said, inspecting the ceiling. Alex was running water in the bathroom, probably brushing her teeth.

“What?” she asked when she emerged again.

“I said, if you wear the blue, I’ll be your love slave.”

Alex stopped dead in her tracks. “Really?”

“Well, no, that would be way too time-consuming. But I promise to think you look sexy in it,” Olivia grinned, feral. She propped herself onto one elbow.

“Well, the blue is a little too formal for tonight,” Alex mused. She pulled out a silky cerulean sleeveless top and held it up for Olivia’s inspection. “This? With the black skirt?”

“Oooh, yes, please,” Olivia teased.

Olivia watched Alex dress, then flit about the room, dancing through a spray of the going-out perfume, putting on make-up, twisting her lovely hair into a severe twist. She secured it with bobby pins, and then tugged until it fell softly around her face. Without saying a word, she came over to where Olivia was still loafing on the bed, and straddled her carefully.

“Stay still,” she commanded. She used her blusher brush to give Olivia’s cheeks a light sheen of mauve, then closed her eyes gently to apply a darker rose to her eyelids. She finished with a little powder, then a little lip-gloss.

“Thanks, Mom,” Olivia snarked when Alex had removed herself.

“Well, you weren’t making any headway just laying there,” Alex volleyed, ignoring Olivia in favor of inspecting herself in the closet mirror.

“When are we leaving?”

“Just a few minutes, I told her we would meet them in town.”

Alex twirled away from her reflection. “That reminds me, what are you doing for Thanksgiving?”

“I’m not sure,” Olivia faltered. “My mother wants me to come home, but…”

“But?” Alex stepped forward.

Olivia’s chin rose proudly. “But I’m not sure I want to.”

Alex worried her bottom lip with her teeth. “Will you think about coming home with me, instead?”

“To Albany?” Olivia asked, surprised.

“Yes. Mr. and Mrs. Abernathy will be touring the Mediterranean on a yacht. You can come down, we’ll spend the whole weekend together.”

“I’ll talk to my mother,” Olivia agreed, nodding. Spending a whole week alone with Alex? Sounded like heaven, especially since their relationship had taken such an intimate turn.

Another knock, this time Millie Kennedy was at the door.

“Alex, Sam Merriweather says he’s here to pick you up for a date,” she reported.

Alex looked at Olivia, angry. “If she hadn’t called…”

“Let’s just get this over with,” Olivia said, standing. She slipped on a pair of shoes and followed Alex out into the corridor.

“You look nice,” Millie said primly. “You, too, Alex.”

“Thank you,” the lovers replied in unison, sharing a secret smile. Olivia loped down the stairs, waiting for Alex at the bottom. Olivia was surprised to find a BMW in the front drive of the cathedral, engine idling.

Sam Merriweather was in the driver’s seat, and Olivia could only assume that Ben Baxter was his passenger. She slipped into the back after Alex and smiled thinly as Alex made the introductions. Sam didn’t bother to hide his disdain, and Olivia could see that Ben was taken aback by the animosity, unsure of how to respond.

To his credit, he behaved like a perfect gentleman, shaking Olivia’s hand and squeezing Alex’s arm in a brotherly fashion.

“How’s that pitching arm?” He asked, smiling broadly.

“Oh, Ben, it’s been years since I’ve played,” Alex shook him off, almost bashfully.

“You’re still the best player I’ve ever seen. For a girl,” he amended when Sam gave him a dirty look. Silence descended upon the spacious vehicle, Olivia fidgeted nervously. Alex stilled Olivia with a warm touch.

“Relax,” she whispered silkily.

“Easier said than done,” Olivia retorted in a murmur.

“They smell fear like sharks smell blood in the water,” Alex warned quietly, still smiling.

“So, Olivia,” Ben turned in his seat to better regard his date for the evening. “How long have you been at St. Agatha’s?”

“About three months,” Olivia replied, glad to focus on something other than her erstwhile lunch, which was currently dancing a tango through her stomach.

“Have you applied to any universities?”

“Not yet, but I’m thinking about Bryn Mawr,” she answered politely.

“That’s a great school, my sister Jane wants to go there, I think. Of course, she’s only thirteen, so it will probably change ten times or more before she finally applies.”

“How many siblings do you have?”

“Just two sisters, Bella and Janie, both younger than me, of course.”

“Ahh, to have a sister,” Alex sighed. “I’m an only child, as you know. I longed for a sister growing up.”

“Feel free to take one of mine,” Ben joked. Sam remained quiet beside him, staring fixedly out the window.

“When is Bella going to marry Frank Harland?” Alex asked, leaning forward in her seat.

Olivia nearly choked. Butch Isabel Baxter was getting married to someone? A man? The notion would have been laughable if Alex wasn’t dead serious.

“Well, Frank graduates from Princeton in a year and a half, I think. So probably either next year or the year following,” Ben advised, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “What about your family? Any of the Ramsey girls getting married?”

“Were you at Grace’s wedding last year?” Alex asked, then plowed on without waiting for an answer. “She’s the oldest, had been engaged to Ethan Van Martin forever.”

“I know Ethan,” Ben said.

“Grace got married, Rachel is a senior at St. Agatha’s, but I don’t think Russ has proposed or anything.”

Ben laughed heartily. “Russ Downing? God help us all if they breed.”

Olivia snickered, and saw Sam glaring at her in the rearview mirror. She resisted the temptation to stick her tongue out at him.

“I know, it would be like a crazy game show to see how much smug pretension could fit into one room,” Alex laughed. Olivia was struck by how comfortable Alex seemed to be, among her people. She wondered curiously if it was a façade, or if Alex truly was happier to be with those that were of her caliber.

“They have another sister though, right?” Ben asked.

“Yes, Ellen. Liv and I are good friends with her, she’s in our class.”

“Has she got anyone special?”

“Perhaps,” Alex replied, evasive.

“Hmm,” Ben mumbled, clearly loving the mystery. “Now what about Katie? Is she still single?”

“No, she and John Beckwith have been dating since last term. He’s s real tool,” Alex replied bitterly. Olivia wondered what dear Mr. Beckwith had done to deserve such backlash.

“Ahhh, well,” Ben sighed and turned to Olivia once more. “Where is your family from, Olivia?”

“New York City,” Olivia ducked her head, and Alex found it absolutely kittenish.

“Bright lights, big city,” Ben commented vacantly, righting himself in the leather seat.

“Something like that,” Olivia replied under her breath. Alex gave her hand a squeeze, and the four of them remained quiet for the rest of the short journey.  

 

The Newport Country Club was the pinnacle of class in the small town, and therefore the Abernathys were holding court there as if it met their high standards. Which it didn’t, Alex noted to her companion. Mrs. Abernathy was a fine looking woman still, in her fifties. Her ash blonde hair had been flawlessly coifed into a tasteful pageboy, and her eyes were a very light shade of blue, like the sky.

It was clear she had never smoked, because her skin was still fresh and pink, and Olivia found it entirely possible that Mrs. Abernathy had had some work done, for she had far fewer wrinkles and laugh lines than Olivia’s mother, and Serena Benson didn’t laugh much.

Catherine Abernathy stood taller than Alex; she towered over even statuesque Olivia in her spiked heels, upon which she was swaying precariously as a result of too many highballs. James Abernathy looked handsome enough, Olivia supposed, but he just radiated a slimy sort of arrogance, as if he couldn’t look the waitress in the face, but he wouldn’t mind screwing her. His suit was impeccably pressed, his maroon tie gleaming in the dim light from the low-hanging chandeliers.

Both Abernathys gave Alex disapproving looks when they saw Olivia tagging along behind the blonde, but had the good grace not to voice their opinions.

Olivia sat reticently as the party around her carried on gaily enough. Sam Merriweather shot her frequent supercilious glances, as if he couldn’t stand not to rub it in that Olivia was somewhere that she didn’t belong. Alex took every opportunity to slip a hand under the table to give Olivia’s knee a reassuring caress, but it wasn’t helping much.

Catherine Abernathy rounded the dinner she had only picked at with another martini, and Olivia wanted to order one herself, and then escape to the ladies room to gulp it down in peace.

“What plans do you young people have tonight?” Senator Baxter asked, lighting a cigar. His wife also turned to the two couples, swirling her port around in the sherry glass. They were a distinguished looking couple, athletic and svelte, Olivia could see where Ben got his good looks.

“We were planning on taking the girls anywhere they wanted to go,” Ben advised warmly, smiling at Olivia.

“Actually, we’re tired,” Alex piped up, and Olivia sighed gratefully.

“Come on now,” Sam wheedled, incensed. “It’s been months since I’ve really gotten to see you. What will the guys at St. Chris’s think when I don’t even take my girlfriend out on dates?”

“They will probably think I’m not your girlfriend,” Alex replied seriously, adjusting her glasses on her nose. The Abernathys and the Merriweathers both looked startled for a moment, and then they burst out laughing, at an almost-inappropriate volume. Olivia wondered what was so funny.

“Don’t be silly, darling,” Mrs. Abernathy tittered, very sauced. “Everyone knows that you and Sam are a charming little couple.”

“Might we be hearing some wedding bells one day?” the elder Mr. Merriweather asked with a raised eyebrow. He reached for Senator Baxter’s cigar lighter and proceeded to light his own Cuban.

“If Alex is lucky,” Sam winked, amusing himself, at least. Ben Baxter looked decidedly uncomfortable by this line of conversation, only slightly less so than Alex herself. Olivia was blushing furiously, ready to take Alex and hide under the table. The waiter had whisked her plate away several minutes before, also barely touched, and was now replacing it with some sort of a delicate layered dessert.

Olivia managed to taste it, and it was decadent, but it was also too much on her weak stomach. She excused herself; a little flattered when all the gentlemen at the table stood when she rose from her chair. She escaped to the bathroom and promptly threw up.

She felt much better afterwards, and she was at the sink tidying up when Alex came in.

“Hey,” Alex said, wrapping her arms around Olivia from behind. “I thought maybe you made a run for it.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Olivia retorted dryly.

“Are you totally miserable?” Alex’s breath tickled Olivia’s ear, and Olivia fought the urge to press Alex against the ugly floral wallpaper and ravish her.

“Not suicidally so,” Olivia grinned, turning away from the mirror to face her captor. “Though your mother is totally strange. Why don’t they just pimp you out in the Child-Brides-R-Us Christmas catalog?”

“Don’t get me started,” Alex rolled her eyes and pulled Olivia by the hand back towards the door. “Another fifteen minutes and with any luck, we’ll be out of here.”

“And if there’s no luck to be had?” Olivia postulated.

“Well, then I’ll fake a seizure.”

“You go on, I want to fix my lipstick,” Olivia pulled her hand out of Alex’s, and turned back towards the mirror.

Alex nodded and straightened her own dress in the mirror before leaving the washroom. Olivia gave her mouth a cursory swipe with the lipstick, and then blotted before appraising her reflection.

She tossed the paper towel and opened the door to the bathroom, steadying herself on the doorframe as she crossed the threshold from cold marble tile onto plush carpeting. The way back to the bathroom had been a maze of short hallways, and Olivia hoped she could find her way back, regretting that she hadn’t asked Alex to wait for her. As she approached an adjoining hallway, she heard soft arguing, as so she pressed her back against the gilded wallpaper and crept down the hall to avoid detection.

She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, only to slip past and not embarrass the people fighting, but as she got closer, she couldn’t help but recognize the familiar voices.

“Don’t start, Mother,” Alex said quietly.

“I told you not to bring that girl, Alexandra. You deliberately defied me and I will not tolerate it.”

“What are you going to do? Cut me out of your will?” Alex popped off, cocky. Olivia closed her eyes and silently begged her girlfriend to control herself.

“You should be ashamed of your behavior, Alexandra. You are a debutante, and you have a reputation, and an obligation to fill the role your father left for you…”

“Bringing my father into this is low, even for you, Mrs. Abernathy.”

“That girl is trash! Why you insist on befriending her and shaming us all is beyond me.”

“And you know Daddy loved everybody—he’s the last person on Earth that ever would have been a snob,” Alex snapped.

“He knew his place, regardless. And you should, too!”

“You don’t know anything about her. You’ve never bothered to speak to her to find out how intelligent she is, or how funny. You’ve never bothered to ask how I feel about her,” Alex sounded perilously close to tears.

“And why should I? Now, clean yourself up and come back to the table before the Merriweathers think that you’ve run off without Sam.” Olivia could hear the rustling of heavy fabric, and made the assumption that they’d both returned to the party. She took a moment to compose herself and indulged in a deep, cleansing breath. She was halfway around the corner when she realized that Alex hadn’t followed her mother back to the dining room. Alex was standing with her back against the wall, an unwitting mimic of Olivia’s position only moments before, lost in a private moment, her eyes filled with tears.

She looked up at Olivia, stricken. “Did you?…”

Olivia nodded, and lowered her eyes. Alex flew into Olivia’s arms, crushing the brunette to her bosom with impressive strength.

“I’m sorry, Liv. I’m so sorry about her. They’re so shallow and petty.”

“Don’t apologize for them,” Olivia said quietly, her cheeks still stinging with shame. She felt thoroughly put in her place.

Bravely, Alex brought her sultry mouth to Olivia’s for one brief moment before pulling away, high on her own recklessness and bitter resentment. She pulled Olivia by the hand back towards the ballroom, but had let go by the time they crossed under the arched doorway.

When they got back to the table, Sam Merriweather asked Alex for a dance, and out of polite obligation, Ben Baxter echoed the invitation to Olivia. Mrs. Abernathy looked thoroughly perturbed by that development, but she didn’t openly protest.

Ben took Olivia into an easy hold, leading her around the floor in a carefree manner that told her he was perfectly accustomed to such ordeals. She tried to keep up with forced, practiced movements, focusing too hard to avoid seeing Alex in the arms of that weasel Sam Merriweather. She also definitely didn’t want to bring attention to herself through a humiliating display of clumsiness.

“Relax, and it will be more fluid,” Ben urged, sensing her plight.

That was easier said than done, Olivia thought as continued to waltz stiffly, knowing that Mrs. Abernathy and everyone else at the table was watching her like a hawk. She caught Alex’s eye as they sailed past each other, and Olivia was privately amused that they both looked as if they were dancing away to their own executions. Ben ended their dance with a small flourish, and Olivia wanted to kick him for not warning her.

She stifled an irritated sigh when Sam asked Alex for another dance, and begged off with Ben. He went out onto the terrace for a cigarette, and Olivia returned to the table to sit and pray that the night would end soon.

 

 

 

“Thank you for dinner, Mr. and Mrs. Abernathy, it was wonderful,” Olivia shook hands with Alex’s family, then with the Merriweathers, and finally the Baxters. Catherine Abernathy almost hugged her daughter, but then thought better of it, and remained under the valet station as rain began to lazily slap the pavement.

“It was our pleasure, Olivia,” Mrs. Abernathy slurred. “We adore helping underprivileged children.”

The Merriweathers looked embarrassed, the Baxters unobservant, and Alex positively mortified by the display Catherine Abernathy was putting on. Olivia wanted to crawl in the back of Sam Merriweather’s beamer and die.

The four teenagers loaded up, leaving the six adults waving goodbye a little sadly.

“Money certainly doesn’t buy manners,” Ben Baxter commented as they left the parking lot. “Sorry, Alex.”

“You won’t find anyone who agrees with you more, Ben,” Alex fumed.

“Where are we going?” Sam asked hopefully.

“Back to the school,” Alex’s tone brooked no arguments.

They sat quietly for a moment, before Ben began a conversation about mutual funds that only Sam seemed to be interested in.

“We could have Sam swing by the store, get that paint,” Olivia murmured across the back seat.

The look Alex gave Olivia could only be described as hungry.

“Do you really want to go back to the dorm and paint?” She asked sardonically.

Before she could ask Alex to elaborate, Alex’s warm hand brushed across her thigh.

Olivia’s thought derailed like a train. This was a little too brazen, even for Olivia, who had none of the reservations of the upper class elite.

“Alex, that’s your boyfriend,” Olivia reminded her quietly. Whether Alex considered him so or not, he certainly felt he was, and he would certainly object to his girlfriend fondling another girl in his back seat.

. “I think we both know he’s the last one on my mind,” Alex smirked. Her eyes got that brave, devil-may-care look, the one Olivia always saw before Alex smarted off to Professor Hagman or Mrs. Kennedy. There would be no holding back tonight.

“Please stop teasing me,” Olivia barely began her soft protest before Alex cut her off. This couldn’t be happening, not here.

“I see the way you’ve been watching me tonight…longing for me. I think you’re the one who’s been doing all the teasing,” Alexandra’s hand brushed the most tender skin of Olivia’s inner thighs, her breath hot against Olivia’s ear. Olivia’s head was spinning. “Would you like to know what I’ve been thinking about you?” The blonde’s fingers rubbed against Olivia’s panties, caressing her through the fabric. Olivia gasped.

“What are you girls talking about back there?” Ben asked, momentarily distracted. Sam caught Olivia’s eye in the rearview mirror, but it was too dark in the shadowy interior of the car to see what Alex was doing.

“Kissing,” Alex answered coyly, her hand still up Olivia’s skirt. Olivia’s hand joined hers and purposefully pushed Alex’s hand back into her own space. Once there, she grasped Olivia’s fingers and wouldn’t let go. The rain, now coming down in torrential sheets, slammed against the roof of the car noisily.

In the meantime, Ben had turned around in his seat and gave her a teasing leer. Olivia smiled weakly in return. He turned back around. Olivia’s breathing hitched when she realized Alex was tracing patterns on the top of Olivia’s hand with her thumb.

“Are you out of your mind?” Olivia hissed.

“No more so than you,” Alex answered, almost offhandedly. Olivia glanced up and saw that their dates were busily comparing notes on stock options. Looking back towards Alex, she watched Alex carefully let out a strap on her top and pull Olivia’s trembling hand towards her now-bare breast. Alex let go as Olivia gave in to temptation and softly began to feel her. Her head fell back as Olivia pleased her straining nipples with the flick of nimble fingers. A soft moan escaped her lips, and Olivia worried that at any moment her date would turn around and get a good look at what the two girls were doing.

Undaunted, Alex inched her way closer to Olivia, pressing her knees against Liv’s legs. “I want you, Liv. As soon as possible.”

“Me too,” Olivia croaked dryly.

The car jostled as they entered the school grounds, and Alex hurriedly fixed her blouse, before shooting Olivia a saucy grin. As they pulled up to the dorm, Alex barely said goodbye before jumping out of the car and pulling Olivia out behind her. They sprinted for the door to avoid getting wetter than was absolutely necessary, and to their backs, a huge bolt of lightening lit up the night sky.

Olivia was reminded of Christy Cameron’s romantic story of first love, and she wondered if this thing with Alex would end as happily. She wasn’t sure it would.

They hastened up the stairs towards their room, and closed and locked the door behind them before attempting further conversation.

“What on Earth possessed you, Lex?” Olivia started to ask. Alex however, was not in the mood to talk. Embracing Olivia, backing up towards the bed, she was kissing Olivia passionately, desperately. Their clothes were soaked and dripping on the old carpet, but Alex wasn’t to be deterred.

Their mouths met in a fiery frenzy, Alex was nipping impatiently at Olivia’s lips, reaching for the zipper on Olivia’s skirt. “Let’s push the beds together,” she murmured, her mouth trailing hotly against Olivia’s throat.

“Oh, Alex,” Olivia moaned when she felt Alex’s hand against her breast, teasing.

Alex tore her swollen, supple lips away from Olivia’s, leading Olivia over to their beds. She stepped away to push the end table out of the way, then she and Olivia got on opposite sides of the twin beds and pushed them together.

Outside, the rain was crashing against the windowpane violently, and thunder shook the entire building with a loud rumble.

“Get undressed,” Alex demanded, and Olivia complied, pulling the gossamer blouse up over her head, and then finishing the job with the skirt. Alex too was disrobing, fumbling to unclasp the straps on her top with nervous excitement. Olivia chortled watching her struggle.

Finally, she was down to a virginal white cotton bra and matching panties, no frills or fuss. Olivia stared with rapt appreciation at Alex’s fine, toned body, the result of many years of swimming and horseback riding. Alex’s tummy was flat and lean; her arms and legs a faded golden hue, well rounded with hard muscles deceivingly hidden. She crossed her arms over her torso shyly when she looked up to see Olivia gazing at her so affectionately. Olivia reached for the light switch to comfort Alex with the darkness, and Alex followed suit before crawling across the bed to meet Olivia in the middle, reaching for Olivia’s bra with trembling fingers.

The room was dark and warm, and only the occasional flash of lightening lit the room appreciably 

Olivia reveled in the sounds of the storm, the perfect backdrop for their tempestuous passion.

Alex’s fingertips grazed Olivia’s ribcage, sending tingles of anticipation and desire down Olivia’s spine. She threw her head back in want. Alex had removed her bra, and was investigating Olivia’s breasts, so different from her own. Alex kissed her way across Olivia’s collarbone and down her chest to a ripe, turgid nipple. Her teeth scraped across the pebbly texture, making Olivia crazy with need. Olivia clutched at her lover’s shoulders, in part to steady herself and in part to touch the burning skin, to make contact.

Alex was alternating nipples, laving each with the same painstaking attention; then trailing kisses between them and down Olivia’s tummy at regular intervals.

Olivia finally lost the strength to remain kneeling, and eased back onto the bed, pulling Alex with her. Alex settled herself between the hot cradle of Olivia’s legs, spreading herself across the taut olive skin of Olivia’s thigh.

“I want to feel you,” Olivia insisted, reaching for Alex’s bra. Alex obliged her by sitting up, removing the offending garment, and tossing it to the floor. She smiled wolfishly at her captive audience.

“Panties too,” Olivia managed to say, her breath caught in her throat. Alex bashfully reached for the hem of her underwear, and Olivia reached out to help her push them down over her hips. Olivia held Alex’s hips in her palms, helping Alex roll slowly across Olivia’s flesh, arousing her.

Alex resumed her lazy exploration of Olivia’s throat and shoulders with her tongue, while Olivia ached with her desire.

“Alex, please,” she begged, her throat constricting. Alex parted Olivia’s thighs with a gentle touch and began the slow build of arousal.

There was no more teasing, no more games, only now the tenderly insistent motion of Alex's hand as she pressed into Olivia's liquid warmth, two fingers slowly creating a rhythm as she explored soft folds, pressing deeper with each downstroke.

Olivia muffled her cries with her arm, biting into the flesh as she arched her back to meet each thrust. Alex, too, was feeling unbearably hot, and she began to rhythmically press herself into Olivia’s thigh to relieve that pressure. Olivia was clinging to her shoulders, swallowing moans of pleasure, bucking as the sensations that were singing through her body became more intense. Faster and faster they both moved, until they were both thrusting erratically, all sense of time and patience gone as they fought for orgasm.

Alex could hear the blood rushing in her brain as both girls rocked against each other, each so close to climax it was torturous. Alex curled her thumb to stroke Olivia’s clit with firm motions and this sent Olivia rocketing towards fruition. She tensed beneath Alex, her face contorting with ecstasy as she yearned to cry out. In the end, it was just a low groan of satisfaction, but it was enough to send Alex crashing for the edge.

Olivia was abandoning herself, turning herself over, giving herself so completely to Alex that Alex felt an ache in her chest at the intimacy of the gesture, of what it meant. Olivia’s fingers found her clit, unexpectedly, and Alex spread her legs a little wider to allow her lover entrance. She leaned backwards, supporting herself with her palms flat against the bed; her head tilted backwards, her hair falling in a tawny cascade down her back.

Alex was already so far-gone that it only took a few sloppy thrusts before she was careening into oblivion, repressing her own moans of joy. She collapsed back against Olivia, taking shuddering gulps of air, trying to restore the necessary oxygen to her lungs.

“I’m yours,” she whispered. She lay there almost a full minute, gasping for air, arching her back as the last spasms ebbed from her body slowly. Finally, Olivia pulled Alex’s limp body up to the head of the bed, placing delicate kisses across her face, murmuring endearments with each touch of her lips. Alex held her close, reveling in this new adoration.

Kisses drew out, longer, more indolent as all sense of urgency was sapped. Time stretched on, without boundary, without hesitation, breathless. The lightening and the thunder rolled on, and eventually the rain stopped too, but sleep didn’t come to the lovers until far into the night.  

* * * 

A week had passed since the night Olivia and Alex has consummated their burgeoning relationship, and Liv was still floating on air. She loved sleeping close with Alex, having someone else curled around her, and so the beds were pushed together every evening at twilight and cleaved apart every morning at dawn.

They had managed a trip into town to buy the paint, and had started their project, but had underestimated the time necessary to measure the wall into perfectly even squares. Being that their arm and back muscles were unaccustomed to such maneuvering, it didn’t take long for them to regret the undertaking. Moreover, because both were so busy with their extracurricular activities and studying, it hadn’t taken much longer for both girls to start procrastinating. Both would try to bribe the other into working on it solo, which was never successful, though it amused the hell out of Christy and Ellen, at least.

And almost as if they sensed the rite of passage that Alex and Olivia had just completed, Christy and Ellen had become their confidantes and closest friends. All four girls made a point of meeting in one of the rooms most every night for at least a half an hour of idle chatter about their day. It was fast-becoming a familiar and welcome ritual, though Olivia couldn’t ignore the hurt looks from Amy that somehow she was being forgotten in favor of these more world-wise sophisticated friends. Caro took the change in stride, as she did everything, keeping a little closer to Amy, as if to comfort her.

Olivia whistled on her way back to the dorm from the rugby game, feeling refreshed and invigorated from an afternoon of healthy exercise. She was also intensely curious, as Alex had slipped away from the bleachers sometime toward the end of the game without catching Olivia’s attention. She wondered what her little vixen was up to.

She didn’t have to wait long. As she came in the door to their room, she kicked off her shoes and shrugged out of her coat. She stopped short when she saw Alex already had the beds pushed together, and was curled under a blanket.

“So this is why you left the game early,” Olivia smiled wolfishly.

“I was actually planning to wait for you naked, but I got cold,” Alex shivered, grinning.

“I’m going to shower,” Liv was already shedding clothing. “Five minutes.”

Three minutes and thirty sex seconds later, a slightly wet and totally exuberant Olivia jumped into the bed and dove under the covers, tickling her girlfriend playfully. Alex squealed and scooted away, but it wasn’t long before Olivia had Alex trapped underneath her lithe, athletic body. Olivia’s dark head emerged from the quilt, already locked in a rapidly-heating kiss with Alex, both girls feeling each other desperately. Olivia moaned into Alex’s mouth, reaching for Alex’s hips to pull her in even closer.

Just as the lovemaking was becoming intense, a muffled throat-clearing from the door startled both girls out of their intimate moment. Caroline Cartwright was at the door, her face as crimson as her flaming red hair.

“I’m sorry, I knocked,” she gestured futilely at the bathroom door where she’d just entered their sanctuary. “Obviously not loudly enough. Sorry,” she ducked her head and escaped back through the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

Olivia was still posed above Alex in the bed, her jaw open in shock. Alex poked her, bringing her back to reality. Olivia practically fell out of the bed trying to extricate herself in order to follow Caroline. She and the tangle of covers were teetering helplessly on the edge of the mattress until Alex pulled backwards forcefully to steady her frantic lover. Alex began to unravel the twisted sheets Olivia was still trapped in, and as soon as she had done so, Olivia was out of the bed like a shot, throwing on clothes.

“I’ve got to talk to her before she tells someone,” Olivia gasped as she yanked up her sweatpants.

“Should I come?” Alex asked, covering her chest modestly with the sheets that had been so recently intertwined around their bodies.

Olivia almost dropped her t-shirt. “That’s probably not a good idea. I’ll be right back.” She dashed through their suite-style bathroom, clanging the door shut behind her. Several minutes had already elapsed, and she wondered what she would do if Caroline weren’t in her room. How appropriate would it be to go chasing after her in hardly more than pajamas?

But to her relief, she found Caroline sitting in the wide windowsill in her own room, her left arm pressed against the glass pane, her right arm pulling her knees into her chest protectively. She was looking out onto the gently rolling hills of the campus, the same view that Alex and Olivia’s window afforded. A fine mist had settled over the land, and dusk was falling.

“Caroline,” Olivia stopped short at the door, a little surprised that her friend was so composed. “Hey.” She tentatively stepped closer to where Caroline was sitting, still practically ignoring her guest. “I know that you must be upset.”

“Upset is not the word I would chose,” Caro answered carefully.

“What you saw back there…wow,” Olivia pinched the bridge of her nose, searching for the words. “You know…it was just…it was just…”

“Sex?” Caroline provided, almost bitterly. Olivia looked up sharply, and then sighed heavily, sagging against the end of the nearest twin bed—Amy’s, she noted.

“It was love, Caro. Alex and I are…” She swallowed, desperately trying to gather her thoughts into some semblance of order. “If you…tell anyone…what you saw today,” she gulped. “It would be really, really bad,” she promised seriously. “We might both get kicked out, but I suspect it would be just me. And if Alex did stay, she would be ostracized, ridiculed.” She looked up to Caroline’s impassive _expression. “I don’t want that to ever happen to her.”

“Liv,” Caroline’s normally soft voice was firm, commanding. “You know…that Amy and I are…friends. She’s about as simple-hearted and sweet as they come. She loves God, and she loves this school, and I’m her best friend, and that’s enough for her. It would never occur to her that I wanted more,” Caroline looked up, tears glistening in her emerald eyes.

“What you have with Alex, I want with Amy, only I know I’ll never get it. I’m not sure if that makes me pathetic or just lonely. But I would never begrudge you happiness,” she vowed earnestly, wiping tears from her cheeks futilely. Olivia’s heart went out to the dear girl, and she came to sit opposite Caro on the windowsill. She reached for Caroline’s hand, scooting closer.

“It’s not pathetic, Caroline, to have hope. That’s what we all do, we hope until we get it. And if we don’t get it, we cry and move on.”

“How would you know? You got yours already…” Caroline bit back a sob, not even bothering with her tears.

“I have a secret, too. I didn’t make it here on my own. You know that story I told back on the night of the dance?”

“The one about your friend Elliot and the girl with the pot?” Caroline asked, sniffling.

“That’s the one. You remember I told you that she and Derwood took off when the fire got out of hand?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I left out that they left the pot there. And when the cops showed up, I …I told them it was mine, and that Elliot didn’t know anything about it. That’s why I got sent here.”

“I don’t follow. How did marijuana get you into Catholic prep school?”

Olivia sighed, knowing she would have to elaborate. “My mom…she’s a single parent. See, about seventeen years ago, she was coming home after drinking one night, and this guy, he uh, he attacked her. And when she got home, she reported it to the police, but her best friend Sally didn’t believe her.”

“Why not?”

“Because she was an alcoholic,” Olivia admitted candidly. “She had been drinking, that night, and Sally knew it, and she thought that my mom had dreamed it, or something.”

“What happened?”

“Well, when my mom …had me, Sally realized that she’d made a terrible mistake, and she spent years trying to make it up to Mom, even though Mom never asked her for anything. Then when I was caught with the pot, my mom gave her a call. Even though Sally and my mother had been best friends all through school, Sally’s family was very wealthy, and my mom wasn’t. Sally had gotten married to this rich guy, and he put her on the Board of Directors here at the school.”

“She still feels guilty about not believing your mom?” Caroline questioned gently.

“I had to apply, and everything, but Mrs. Bellows helped the scholarship go through. The court agreed to let me slip by on the possession charge, when I explained what really happened and that I was willing to correct the situation by coming here. The drug test helped, I wouldn’t touch the stuff, so I came back clean.”

“Wow,” Caroline said softly.

“There’s more,” Olivia took a deep breath. “The girl, I didn’t rat her out. She’d been in my classes since I was in junior high, and she was pretty and popular, and I had a total crush on her. She ignored me until she caught me behind the library one day smoking a regular old cigarette. She had come out to smoke a joint, and just…thought it was cool that I was there, too, I guess.”

“And you never got her,” Caroline finally said, nodding in comprehension.

“But see, it was better that I didn’t. If I had kissed Becky, even once, I’d still be hung up on her. I would have come here, dismissed Alex immediately, and then spent the semester miserable, pining over Becky back in the City. And now, I’m so happy. I see that there are some things that happen for a reason, and I may not know what it is right then, but there is definitely a reason.”

“And here I thought you slept through Mass,” Caroline giggled lightly through her drying tears, and Olivia leaned forward to embrace her.

“Thank you for keeping my confidence,” she whispered.

“Thank you for keeping mine,” Caroline parroted.

“It’ll happen for you, too, Caro…maybe just not with Amy,” Olivia stroked the red hair gently.

Caroline pulled back from the hug and tried to smile. “Go back to Alex. I’ll be fine for now,” she affirmed.

“Alright,” Olivia agreed. She stood and gave one last backward glance to her friend before leaving. Caroline was turned back to the window once more, biting back tears.

“What’d she say?” Alex asked hesitantly when Olivia returned.

“She won’t tell anyone,” Olivia declared resolutely.

“We’re sure?” Alex gave Olivia a dubious look.

“She’ll take it to the grave,” Olivia swore, sitting down on the edge of the mattress. Alex had gotten dressed, though she had returned to the bed to wait for Olivia. Olivia slid her pants down her hips before swinging her legs back under the blanket. She spooned Alex from behind, holding her close.

She kissed Alex behind the ear, lightly. “I’m so glad I have you.”

Alex squeezed the forearms that were crossed over her chest possessively. “Me too.”  

* * * 

“’Life seems nothing more than a quick succession of busy nothings,’” Olivia proclaimed to the group gathered in her dorm room as she sorted through her closet.

“What is that? Cheever?” Christy asked, lounging back on Alex’s bed, inspecting her fingernails.

Alex rolled her eyes on her way towards the bathroom. “It’s Austen, Mansfield Park. She’s been like this all morning. Hagman gave us two novels to read over Thanksgiving break.”

“Hey, just think about what life would be like if you had to spend T-giving with Aunt Cici,” Ellen pointed out cheerfully. “No offense, Al,” she called out as an afterthought.

“Where are you guys going for the holiday?” Olivia cut in smoothly, rummaging to find clean pairs of jeans.

“Well, my family likes to stay in the City from Thanksgiving until Christmas,” Christy explained, touching up her nail polish with a bottle of topcoat from Alex’s bureau.

“And my family likes to play Who-Can-Verbally-Emasculate-Who-the-Fastest,” Ellen chimed in, wallowing on Olivia’s bed contemplatively.

“So, we’re spending Wednesday through Friday in the city with my family,” Christy went on.

“And we’re spending the weekend with my parents and Rachel,” Ellen finished unhappily. “I wish my family would take a trip to Egypt.”

“Ah ah,” Olivia clucked. “They are yachting through the Mediterranean,” she said dramatically.

“But of course,” Ellen responded with equal flair.

Since Olivia could practically feel Alex’s glare through the wall of the bathroom, she hurriedly changed the subject. “So you’re going to do Christmas shopping while you’re in town?”

“That’s the plan, but we’ll probably get distracted,” Christy bit her lip and sent a wily grin over to Ellen.

“Oh, undoubtedly,” Ellen replied without apology.

“We have to hurry,” Alex interrupted, emerging from the bathroom. She was clearly embarrassed about the turn in conversation, and she wordlessly handed Olivia her cosmetics bag.

“Thanks Lex,” Olivia packed everything haphazardly into the duffel bag at her feet, and was barely able to zip it closed.

“When is your cab supposed to be here?” Ellen asked, rolling over to look at the clock.

“Five minutes ago,” Alex said, her tone clipped.

“Shizer,” Christy sighed lethargically and removed herself from the bed, stretching her muscles lazily. She prodded Ellen. “Let’s go, let them finish.”

“Help me up,” Ellen whined, and Christy reached out her hands to do so.

 All four girls traded hugs and well wishes. Almost on cue, a horn from down below sounded.

“That’s us,” Olivia’s eyes were bright with excitement.

“Bye,” Christy and Ellen spilled out into the hall, where they waved their friends off.

“I hope Olivia doesn’t get her pregnant,” Ellen joked quietly.

Christy rolled her eyes and from down the hall, Alex called back “I heard that!”  

 

The cab pulled up into the circular driveway of one of the largest houses Olivia had ever seen. The dignified red brick ascended three stories into the atmosphere, the steel gray of the trim matching the colors of the winter sky. Alex unloaded her luggage, possessing none of the awe that was entrancing Olivia at the current moment. She prodded her girlfriend along, holding her key in her mouth as she heaved their bags onto the front step.

“If you keep gawking that way, someone will think you’re casing the place,” Alex teased, beckoning Olivia forth. She unlocked the front door, stretching her frozen fingers.

She sighed when the lock gave way.

“Welcome to the Cabot estate. Entailed to my great-great-grandfather John Charles Cabot after the Civil War, handed down the line to my grandfather, Alexander Charles Cabot, given to my father John Michael Cabot, and one day, to me,” Alex informed as they entered the large manor through the front doors.

“And you’re sure no one is here?”

Alex rolled her eyes. “Yes,” she stripped off her scarf and wrapped it around Olivia playfully, pulling her closer. “Aren’t you interested in my history lesson?” Alex pouted.

“I’m actually more concerned that we don’t get caught,” Olivia grinned, allowing Alex to lay a toe-curling kiss on her lips.

When she pulled back, Alex said: “Mr. and Mrs. Abernathy are halfway to Egypt by now, to join the Merriweathers on their yacht. The staff has been given a week’s vacation, I left word with the housekeeper Margaret to leave us provisions, and we’ve been given a week’s reprieve from the ever-watchful eye of Battle-Ax Beasley,” Alex squinted one eye shut comically, which reduced Olivia to giggles.

“Fair enough,” Liv agreed finally, removing her coat. Alex put it on a hanger in the coat closet, then slipped out of her own jacket.

Crossing the marble foyer with their luggage, Alex proceeded with the tour, telling Olivia more than she ever wanted to know—or would ever be able to remember. Two sets of mirrored staircases led up to the second floor, they took the one to the left, and Olivia admired the smoothness of the mahogany banister. It was twenty-two steps up to the second level of the house, all the doors were closed against the draft, Olivia had yet to determine if the old house was equipped with central air.

The wallpaper was a floral pattern of English roses, adorned with gilded trim. Stiff-backed chairs that reminded her of the dining hall at St. Agatha’s were set along the corridor, as if someone might need to stop and rest during their exploration of the mansion. Fresh flowers in antique vases were set out on tables along the walls, Olivia wondered if the manor had it’s own garden or if the Abernathys had the flowers delivered regularly. She couldn’t help but feel it was all a spectacular waste of money.

“And this is my room,” Alex threw open a set of double doors into a room that was bigger than the Benson’s entire apartment. A huge stone fireplace was set into the south wall of the room, flanked by bookcases jam-packed with books. Everything from well-worn children’s books, to Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, to every single book Jane Austin and Virginia Woolf that ever written. The shelves and furniture matched perfectly, the forest-green carpet and wallpaper accented the dark cherry wood.

Against the east wall was a four-posted bed, which Alex was currently bouncing on, gossamer fabric draped over the top in a canopy. Next to the bed on the left was a darkened doorway that Alex informed her led to the bathroom. On the north wall was an enormous picture window overlooking the park behind the house, with crimson tapestry loosely draped on either side. The desk beneath the window was the same dark oak, an ancient typewriter sitting atop it, not a speck of dust to be seen.

On the west wall was the closet door, and next to it an antique vanity counter and bench. To the left of that was the double doors where they had come in.

“Wow, Alex.”

“Wow, nothing,” Alex blew her bangs out of her eyes and wiggled her fingers childishly. “C’mere.”

Olivia gave in to temptation and joined Alex on the bed, but not before kicking off her shoes. She rolled onto her back, next to where Alex was already in a similar position.

“This house…is incredible. This room, is…incredible.” It had almost left her speechless.

“It doesn’t mean much, really.”

“What do you mean?” Olivia turned her head slightly in Alex’s direction.

“I just meant that without the right people here to enjoy it with…it’s just a house.”

“Your dad?”

“This was my father’s room, before he died,” Alex rolled over onto her side to face Olivia, propped up onto her elbow. Olivia watched her lover with a quiet intensity, compelling Alex to continue.

“This was his room when he was a child, and he and my uncle Charles shared this room until Charlie died.”

“What happened?”

“He drowned,” Alex laughed bitterly. “All Cabots meet an untimely death, or haven’t you noticed?”

“Is that what you’re afraid of, Lex? Dying young?” Olivia moved closer, breathless as she waited for Alex’s answer.

Alex remained silent, the pain and anger rolling off of her in waves.

“Tell me about your father,” Olivia prodded, gently.

“It was a slow death.” Alex swallowed hard, and Olivia could see that she was fighting tears.

“How long?”

“Years,” Alex nodded. “I would come up here to see him, and he would read to me for hours, until he got tired. All of these books, they’re my books, we kept them up here and we would sit in that chair by the fireplace. I would curl up in his lap and sometimes I would fall asleep just listening to him speak.” Tears began to gently course down her cheeks, gravity pulled them to the mattress, the sheets soaked them up.

Olivia scooted closer.

“Once he got too sick, he would just lay in this bed, and I would come and see him, sit up here with him on the bed and talk to him. Sometimes I would read him my books, though I wasn’t really reading them, I had memorized them from all the times I had heard them before. He was so proud of me, even then. I was so young.” Alex’s voice was strong, despite the tears. Olivia used her shirtsleeve to gently wipe Alex’s face.

“He died before I ever really got to know him.”

“I’m sorry, Alex.”

“Why? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I’m still sorry,” Olivia’s gentle tone was full of empathy. Boldly, she continued, “I’m sorry that you’ve had to live with your mother all these years, wishing that it had been her and not your father.”

Alex gasped, and Olivia ducked her head to obscure her always-honest eyes.

“How did you know I felt that? I’ve never told anyone that.”

“Because you’ve been ashamed?”

Alex nodded, still looking as if she’d been slapped in the face. Her cheeks burned hot with ignominy and guilt, Olivia could feel the heat radiating off of her. “I would give anything to have my father back,” Alex finally said, quietly.

Olivia’s heart swelled as her quiet, alternately shy, alternately outrageously bold girlfriend confessed her darkest fears. To be trusted this much felt better than anything Olivia had ever felt before; better than desire, better than sex. Olivia wondered silently if this is what love was, having Alex trust her so deeply that it no longer seemed impossible to shine the light into the most secret corners of her shuttered heart.

She pulled Alex in close, holding her as she cried, willing her to release it all, to let it go, to let her heart rise like a bird on the first day of flight.  

 

Olivia awoke feeling restless. The clock next to the bed told her it was just after six, though the room was already bathed in twilight shadows. Alex was still napping beside Liv, her face relaxed and peaceful. Olivia wondered what sort of “provisions” had been left for the girls—she’d settle for a sandwich and a soda right about now.

She eased off the mattress slowly so as not to wake Alex, and closed the door to behind her when she left the room. She padded down the cold marble steps in her socked feet, feeling the slippery give beneath her. She wondered how many times Alex had fallen down these stairs, if ever. She recalled with amusement the time she caught Alex crawling in through their door room window. How mysterious Alex had seemed then, how mysterious she still was, at times.

But now Olivia always knew when Alex had gallivanting, because it was she who would find the fresh bruises and scrapes on her lover’s pale skin, marking her as a bona-fide adventuress. Alex certainly wasn’t afraid of injury to herself, which worried Olivia constantly considering Alex’s fondness for dangerous locations.

Olivia wandered through the cavernous foyer testing doorknobs, half-expecting them to be locked. The first door on the far-left side of the hall led to a half bath that reeked overwhelmingly of too-sweet potpourri. A very large portrait hung next on the wall, of a handsome young man with sandy blonde hair and a ready grin. A plaque at the bottom of the frame identified him as John Michael Cabot, Alex’s father, as a teenager, or perhaps a little older. It certainly explained where Alex got her good looks. This man looked warm and friendly, not anything like the cold and imperious Catherine Abernathy.

The next door was to a formal home office, the surface of the huge desk was impeccable, the room cold and stark, damp. Olivia backed out quickly. Before she could move on, warm arms wrapped around her from behind, startling her.

“Hey,” Alex whispered, her voice husky.

“Did I wake you up? I’m sorry,” Olivia titled her head back to rest on Alex’s shoulder. Alex nuzzled her ear affectionately.

“You didn’t…the bed got cold when you left,” she murmured.

“Who is that?” Olivia asked, pointing to a matching painting hung next to the door.

“That’s Barbara Ramsey, Ellen and Rachel’s mother…Aunt Barb is my father’s sister.”

“Reallllly?” Olivia stepped forward to inspect the portrait more closely, dragging Alex along behind her. Ellen Ramsey bore a striking resemblance to her young mother, with gleaming black hair and a slightly aquiline nose. Rachel had similar facial features, but was taller and thinner than either her mother or her sister. Barbara Cabot-Ramsey had unnaturally red lips and not even a whisper of a smile.  

“She doesn’t have much of a sense of humor,” Alex commented, almost as if she was reading Olivia’s thoughts.

“Ellen is such a sweetie, and so genuine. It’s hard to believe you’re all from the same family.”

“Ellen and I spent a lot of time together as children, here with my dad and Uncle Charlie…it was only after I was sent off to school that we grew apart.”

“Where does this go?” Olivia asked, gesturing to the next doorway along the wall.

“The den…entrée,” Alex reached forward from her position at Olivia’s back and turned the knob, marching them forward into the dark room. “Don’t be scared,” Alex whispered jovially. “I’ll find the switch in a minute.”

Lamplight filled the room a second later and Olivia blinked to adjust to the sudden dilation of her pupils. Wood-paneled walls made the room naturally dim, though the thick cream carpeting helped a bit to brighten it up. A stone fireplace set in the far wall looked like it hadn’t been used in years, and was flanked by two sets of French doors that offered the same view of the park that could be seen from Alex’s bedroom window. Against the wall to the right were shelves built into the wall, though currently not occupied by books. A television and sundry electronic equipment had been stacked there looking dangerously as if they could come crashing to the floor at any moment. Closer to the entrance of the room was a wet bar where a large number of liquor bottles had been lined up against a lighted mirror.

The furniture was all red, a chaise lounge was on the far end of the room next to the French doors looked very provincial, a big overstuffed armchair faced the television, and the pièce de résistance, a beautiful leather sofa stood in front of the hearth.

Olivia stepped forward, running her fingers along the rich buttery leather of the back of the couch. She eased down onto it, stretching her arms out to revel in it. Alex turned on the stereo, kept the volume low, something jazzy and sultry, Joni Mitchell.

“I could live on this sofa,” Olivia moaned almost-deliriously, stroking the luxurious leather.

“It is sinful,” Alex smiled wickedly as she came to Olivia and straddled her lover’s knees. Leaning in for a kiss, she upped the ante by rubbing Olivia’s braless breasts through the prim starched blouse. Olivia responded, arching against Alex’s questing fingers, cupping Alex’s bottom in her palms.

“Let’s make love here,” Alex whispered, tugging Olivia’s earlobe with her teeth.

Olivia pulled back just enough to regard Alex fully, already breathing heavily. “Are you sure? Wouldn’t it ruin the sofa?”

“Nothing a wet wash cloth won’t fix. Besides, we’ll be careful,” Alex’s eyes flashed hungrily, and Olivia thought sardonically that carefully would be the last word that came to mind when she thought of making love to Alex Cabot.

Alex was unbuttoning her own blouse looking quite ready to pounce. Olivia jerked her mind back into the game, slouching back to get a better view of her girlfriend, who was still perched on Olivia’s knees, methodically stripping. Her shirt was tossed to the floor, followed by her bra. Alex threw her head back wantonly as she rubbed her own breasts indulgently, under the pretense of soothing them after being bound up for so long. Olivia had seen her perform this ritual many times, knowing secretly that Alex loved doing it more than she let on.

Alex had to stand to remove her pants, and she pushed her jeans and panties down off of her hips in one fell swoop. She repositioned herself on Olivia’s lap, leaning in close once more. Her lips went straight to Liv’s neck, carefully inspecting it with her tongue, sucking very selectively at the spots that caused Olivia to keen in response.

“You’re still dressed,” she pointed out unnecessarily, her breath coming in ragged pants.

Olivia laughed, quickly lifting Alex just enough to flip her over and pin her against the sofa, sinking down on top of her. Confident fingers drifted to Alex’s breasts to tease and pinch, to arouse. Alex bucked against Olivia’s palms, her mouth moving soundlessly in guilty delight.

“You’re incredible,” she moaned, before she lost all thought to Olivia’s fingers trailing across her tummy. Olivia slipped down, down until her face was firmly nestled between Alex’s thighs. In all their times together, she’d not yet had this pleasure, and this night seemed a perfect time. Alex’s fingers twined themselves through Olivia’s cropped hair, and Olivia found her own blunt-edged fingers against the tops of Alex’s thighs, digging in more roughly than she’d intended.

Her moist pink tongue darted out for the first taste of honey, causing Alex to cry out desperately, her hands tensing against Liv’s scalp almost painfully. Olivia began a rhythm, wanting so badly to bring Alex to climax this way. Broad strokes of her tongue on either side of Alex’s clit brought a healthy reaction, as did darting her tongue in to rub lazily against Alex’s g-spot. But the c